


If I Don't See You Again

by HannibabestheCannibabes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - World War II, Angst, Bombs, Britain, Established Rumbelle, Established SeaDevil, F/F, First Kiss, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, London, Love, Nazis, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Pregnancy, Realisation of feelings, Romance, Sex, Tea, swanqueen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:20:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7608961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannibabestheCannibabes/pseuds/HannibabestheCannibabes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>World War II AU.</p><p>Emma Swan works the night shift as an ambulance driver. Her life revolves around her son, her friends, and making sure she survives each shift. Until she is called to the house of one Leopold Fabell and his wife, Regina, whose calculating eyes she can't quite seem to shake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Debris of Ivory and Silk

**Chapter 1**

**Debris of Ivory and Silk**

Two flashes of light. The dark of the room interrupted. Two explosions. _One. Two._ With each one, the ground seemed to shake, the bedposts shudder. Though whether that was real, or just because people seemed to expect, _to want_ , to feel something in an instance of such destruction, it was almost impossible to tell.

Emma Swan lay on her bed, eyes wide open, counting seconds under her breath. Before she had hit sixty, she heard the phone ring and she sat up, knowing already what the phone call would be about. Beside her, in the dark, another woman sat up also. She had thought she was the only person awake in the room, but it seemed she was not the only person whose sleep was affected by the war.

‘Two bombings in the last five minutes.’ A woman walked into the room and clapped her hands for attention. She was short and old, far older than an ambulance station leader ought to be. But she was fierce and single-minded on the job, which is exactly what was needed of her. ‘Swan, Red, you take the first one. Blanchard, Gold, you take the second.’

‘Good Lord, Granny, you’re supposed to give us a warning.’ Red was next to Emma, and it seemed she had been sleeping and was woken up only by the explosions. ‘Some of us were kipping.’

‘Dreaming, Red? Of soldiers coming home to scoop you up in their arms?’ Blanchard asked, a smile on her face.

‘More like real chocolate, and hose without holes in.’ Red replied, causing the women to laugh before Granny clapped her hands again to silence them.

‘Women, you have jobs. Two bombings already, before even a warning could be given. That’s real people out there who need you. And the night will only get busier.’ Granny took a step to the left to free the door. ‘Now go.’

* * *

 

‘Could the Germans not give it a rest for a night? That’s all I’m asking, one night,’ Red grumbled as the women made their way to the ambulances in the basement, fixing their tin hats as they did. Blanchard and Gold, Mary Margaret and Belle, had already left in their vehicle, both still taking their job as seriously as they should. Emma and Ruby were not. ‘I just want one night where I can drink gin without fearing it’ll affect my steady hand, and a full night of sleep. Surely Hitler could give a girl that?’

‘I don’t quite think you’re top of Adolf Hitler’s priorities, Rubes.’ Emma looked over at her, dark hair swept back under her hat, lips full and red despite uniform restrictions, eyes glinting mischievously, and she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. ‘I mean, you are hardly the image of the perfect Nazi woman.’

‘No, I leave that to you, Emma Swan. Blonde, bland, boring. Why, you would make a superb German should we lose this war.’  

‘It’s blasphemous just to suggest a thing.’ The women climbed into the ambulance, Emma in front of the wheel. ‘Where are we going, Red?’

‘West End. Going to see how the other half lives for a night.’ Red nodded as Emma put her foot down on the accelerator and drove out onto the street. ‘And can we avoid using big words right now. I’m not yet fully awake.’

* * *

 

If she wasn’t yet awake, the night drive woke her. After the raid, the streets were empty, eerily so. The smell of the bombs sat in the air, unshifting, unrelenting, as though to serve as a heavy warning to anyone brave enough to still be out. The streets were dark except for patches of light under the lamps, just enough to illuminate the debris of past bombings. Empty houses with collapsed rooves, windows shattered into thousands of dirty pieces. The drives through London after a bombing were rarely chaotic, but Red found it impossible to sleep on them. The silence scared her, far more than any warning siren or bomb explosion. The silence caused her head to hurt, her ears straining for any sound of life besides her own.

That all changed when the ambulance turned down the road that had been hit. No longer was there just smell. Smoke billowed from the bombsite. Dust and debris began to cover the window screen, limiting sight even further. Emma had to drive slower, listening to the sound of the ambulance tyres on the road, no longer able to trust her vision. In the darkness, she could make out a faint light approaching. The warden. Emma pulled over slowly and the two women climbed out.

‘Ah, ladies.’ The warden was small and fat, his belly hanging over his trousers despite his upright posture. He carried himself with an air of self-importance, even in the wake of such an event. Most likely he was the servant of one of the houses on the street. That meant status. ‘Ladies, I was expecting better time. This really is an unacceptable response time in such dreadful circumstances. You are aware we are in the middle of a war?’

‘No, really? Well, I never thought that.’ Red rolled her eyes and the warden gasped audibly, which would have been comic if not for the situation.

Emma thought to defuse the situation. ‘What happened?’

The warden seemed grateful of the interruption, if only just to show off his understanding of the events. ‘The only building hit was number 12. But it was a direct hit. Two occupants, the ex-MP Leopold Fabell and his wife, Regina. The fire brigade have already recovered them. They have a number of servants, but I don’t believe any were in the building when the bomb hit.’ As he spoke, Emma and Red fetched their equipment from the ambulance, bandages and blankets, as well as a stretcher. The warden offered no help, but did lead them to the building with the aid of a torch. ‘I suppose, in a way, the hit was lucky. These streets are wide and the houses are totally detached. Good God, imagine the destruction if this was one of those East End streets!’ Emma didn’t say that she didn’t need to imagine the scene, that just the night before they’d been on an East End street after a bombing. Three houses destroyed. No survivors. ‘Well, this is the house.’

The warden shone the torch up at the building, and Emma and Red got a full glimpse of the destruction. The building had been white, before the bombing, but now the remaining structure was covered in soot and ash. As they walked closer, the grit in the air become more and more irritating, getting into the eyes and up into the nostrils. Under foot, glass shattered and belongings that had survived the blast were trodden. Though even in the soot and smoke, the wealth of the occupants was clear. The debris was made up of ivory and silk. There were smashed plates of real china. Real fur throws were charred on the floor. Looking at the piles of expense, even broken and burnt, Emma could understand exactly why looting was such a problem in the war.

It became clear as the three walked further through the debris that the damage had been to the front of the house alone. The rest of the house stood almost unaffected, with the only sign of the explosion a few smashed teacups in the back room, which Emma presumed to be the servants’ quarters, given the plain walls. Once they passed beyond the back room, they arrived into the garden.

There were two people on the ground. Or, more precisely, one person lay on the ground moaning and one person sat delicately on what Emma presumed to be a stool in the dark. The moaner sounded male, he must be the MP, which meant the other figure was his wife. There were two other people stood in the garden also, both holding flashlights. Emma could faintly make out the fire brigade’s symbol on their clothing. At the sight of the ambulance service, they approached.

‘Swan. Red. Fancy meeting you two again.’ The speaker was covered in soot, her face almost completely black. Her hands also. But that didn’t stop her winking at Ruby. The other woman stood silently behind her.

‘Dorothy, thought I shook you off last week?’ Ruby replied, coolly but for the glint in her eye.

‘Dotty. And a girl can still dream.’ She smirked, but that seemed to signal the end of the conversation, and after her tone became serious. ‘Ok, there are two casualties. Over there, Mr Fabell, serious. He needs urgent care. Ruby, you come with us and we’ll take him on the stretcher. Emma, can you deal with his wife? She’s refusing to let us touch her to check for injuries, she says she wants a ‘proper’ check. Given a lack of complaint and how seriously her husband is injured, we’ve just left her to it, but now you’re here, can you try? Ruby, with me.’

Emma sighed as she watched Ruby and the fire brigade approach the man on the ground, still moaning. Whilst she was grateful of a night free from the gore they would be facing, she could do without some privileged aristocrat throwing a strop because of a few pieces of home décor. Still, she smiled and approached the woman sat on the stool.

‘Excuse me, Mrs Fabell? My name’s Emma Swan, I’m one of the ambulance drivers. I really need to examine you. Can you tell me please if you have any pain? Or if you feel nauseous or giddy at all?’

‘How is he?’ Mrs Fabell responded, ignoring Emma’s questions, instead looking over at her husband on the ground.

‘He’s being treated by my colleague and he’ll be taken to hospital as soon as possible,’ Emma replied, still trying to keep her tone fairly light. ‘But now I need to examine you.’

With that, Regina Fabell turned her head back towards Emma. In the light of the torch, the ambulance driver could get a better look at her patient. Mrs Fabell was younger than her husband, much younger, perhaps even half his age. She was slender and dark, with short hair that just about reached her shoulders. Her eyes were almost black, if not for a spark of something in them…calculation, perhaps? Curiosity, at least. It was difficult to tell with the lack of light. Her face was covered in soot, but underneath Emma could still make out a strong bone structure. A bone structure made for a woman who needed to look good whilst looking down on others. This was a woman born into the upper classes. Emma suddenly felt very self-conscious.

‘You need to examine me, do you, Miss Swan?’ Regina asked, her voice cutting into the night air. ‘It is Miss Swan, presumably, I can’t imagine a husband being comfortable with this.’

She meant comfortable with his wife being an ambulance driver, but it could have meant being comfortable with his wife looking so disgusting for all the warmth in her tone.

‘Yes, it is Miss Swan.’ Emma nodded. ‘And yes, I do need to examine you.’

Regina stared at her for a moment longer before rolling her eyes. ‘Fine. Make it quick. I can assure you I am well, but I imagine you have to check for yourself. This would be a poor war effort if we just took everything anyone said for the truth. Why, we’d all become Chamberlain overnight.’ She watched with her dark eyes as a noticeable blush spread across the ambulance driver’s cheeks. ‘Don’t you have the stomach for satire, Miss Swan?’

‘I have the stomach for anything. I lack the class for satire,’ Emma responded. ‘Now, please, you need to be still whilst I examine you, else it will take far longer than necessary.’

‘And we’d hate for that to happen,’ Regina said sarcastically before indeed sitting still whilst Emma carried out the medical examination. She answered questions swiftly when Emma asked them, hesitating only when asked, quietly, if she could possibly be expecting, and that was only to let out a low chuckle. ‘I would rather have been killed by the Germans, Miss Swan.’

‘You are completely fine, Mrs Fabell.’

‘I was already aware of that. The check was for your peace of mind.’

‘I would recommend not doing anything overly taxing for a few days, in case of delayed shock. And if you do begin to experience any pain, you should see a doctor immediately.’ Emma paused for a second. ‘Do you have somewhere to go, Mrs Fabell? You are aware that you can’t stay here? Nor will it be possible to move any items that you may have here until the building has been checked?’

‘And leave everything for looters?’ She raised a singular eyebrow. ‘I have people who can do that for me, Miss Swan. As for my wellbeing? As charmed as I am that you are concerned, I am not delusional, I know full well I need a new place to stay. I have that under control.’

She spoke confidently. Indeed, she looked confident, and yet Emma could not help but think of the debris on the ground and notice the glint in Regina’s eyes seemed less bright than it did before. She wanted to say something, do something that would brighten it once more.

‘Emma.’ She turned to Ruby shouting her across the garden. ‘Mr Fabell needs to go to the hospital. We need to take him now.’

Emma nodded, as Regina stood up at the news of her husband. The ambulance driver turned back to her and she sat down again. ‘We’re taking your husband to the hospital. You may come if you want…’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Then you’ll need to phone the hospital for news.’ Emma fished in her pocket for a piece of paper and a stub of pencil and she quickly wrote down two phone numbers, resting the paper against her hand. She gave the paper to the MP’s wife who said nothing of the fact the first number was for the closest hospital, rather than the more expensive practice she was no doubt more used to. The bombings did little for London other than cause class forgetfulness, it seemed.

Emma turned to leave when Regina asked, ‘This second number, Miss Swan?’  

‘My number, Mrs Fabell, if you need anything at all.’

* * *

 

Red yawned as the ambulance stopped inside the basement in the early hours of the morning and the two women half stumbled out. Both women had gone over 24 hours without sleep, and both now felt it immensely.

‘It seemed Hitler heard you asking for a night off, Rubes, and instead gave you a full night of work.’

After the first call, there had been four more bombings. The last two had been particularly unpleasant. _Even after two years of war, it seemed there were still sights that could shock you_ , Emma thought.

‘I knew there was a reason I didn’t like him.’ Red tried to scowl, but she was even too tired for that. ‘Still, don’t think I didn’t see you, Swan.’

‘See what?’

‘Your number to the MP’s wife? What was her name? Rachel?’

‘Regina,’ Emma corrected her, removing her hat to push a hand through her hair. ‘And I was just trying to help. She lost her home tonight. And she husband’s in hospital.’

‘Aw bless.’ Red cooed. ‘And her lover will be right over to take her back to her country manor, where they won’t leave bed for a week now her husband’s out of the way. You’re too naïve, Swan.’

‘She’s a woman who deserves sympathy, Ruby.'

‘And she’ll get some from her upper-class twit friends, and her upper-class twit family. By next week she’ll have a new home and her husband will be better and their lives will be back to how they were before- spending money like always and pretending the war doesn’t exist. Meanwhile the women who deserve sympathy will be dead from hunger and disease whilst their husbands are getting their heads blown off in France. Save your help for those who need it, Swan. And, trust me, she is not one of them.’


	2. Marriage, Dinner Parties and Children

**Chapter 2**

**Marriage, Dinner Parties and Children**

‘Regina darling, I don’t understand why we are still having this discussion. You shouldn’t be living in the city. Move home, it’s far safer for you.’

‘I have already been hit once. The Germans are not deliberately aiming.’

‘Oh goodness no, I didn’t mean that at all. I mean it’s safer for your marriage prospects. A little bombing hurts nobody.’ The woman speaking stopped momentarily to cast a glance at her daughter sat across the drawing room. ‘Sit up, Regina, with posture like that there is no wonder you’re unmarried.’

Regina Fabell, nee Mills, rolled her eyes in the most inelegant manner she could manage as she sat up straighter in her chair. Her mother nodded at her improved posture, and lay back down on the chaise. Sat in the room, Regina realised why she so rarely ventured out of London to the family home. Every room felt cramped, regardless of space, as if the years of arguments and resentments had manifested themselves into invisible furniture. Memories clung to surfaces thicker than layers of dust, of which her mother ensured there was none, and she could barely move without being reminded to stand taller, or walk prouder or, now, sit straighter.

‘I’m not unmarried, mother, I am a widow. My husband is dead.’

Once more, Cora Mills raised her head, although this time accompanied with a dismissing hand wave. ‘But for how long? A month? And yet you still have no suitors.’

‘A week, mother. My husband has been dead for a week. I have been home for a week.’ _And already a week too long_. It felt like explaining to a child, although Regina was certain a child would understand her more quickly than her mother ever could.

‘Exactly, Regina, you have been widowed for a week. And yet, nothing.’ Cora was sat up fully now, eyes fiery. ‘When your father died, distraught as I was, I had three marriage proposals within the space of a day. All from men, may I add, who were social superiors to my late husband.’ The story changed every time Cora Mills told it. First, she had one proposal and one suitor, although he had far less noble intentions than marriage. At one point, she’d had five proposals within an hour of her husband’s death, although admittedly that was at a dinner party after a number of glasses of wine. The truth was that she had had one suitor following her husband’s death five years before, and he had been a close family friend.  ‘I expect the same from you.’

 ‘That isn’t what I want…’

‘Oh Regina, do you think I care what you want? Do you think anyone cares what you want?’ Cora stood now and crossed the room to kneel at her daughter’s feet and clutch her hand in her own. It was dramatic and needless, the very essence of Cora Mills. ‘I care about doing what is right for you. And what is right for you is coming home to the country and meeting the men I have told you about. There is a man tipped to be the next Prime Minister. Could you imagine? To be married to the Prime Minister of Great Britain? To be the second most important woman in this nation? You could be married to the man who ends this ghastly war. Wouldn’t that make you happy?’

‘No, mother, that would make you happy.’ Regina stood; pushing away Cora’s heavily jewelled hands, and walked away. She could feel her breath coming in short jagged bursts, her patience finally at the end of its tether. ‘Everything I have done has been to make you happy. My marriage was arranged by you and was solely for your benefit. How could it ever have been right for me to be married to man twice my age who disgusted me? But that was never your concern, was it? Your concern was to be seen marrying your daughter to someone of a high enough status.’

‘And look how that ended. He was disgraced and we remain how we started. Darling, come here.’ Cora stood up and gestured to Regina, who came to stand beside her mother in front of the mirror that hung over the large fireplace. She put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders and directed her gaze towards her reflection. ‘Look at yourself, darling. Really, truly look at yourself.’ Regina stared at the mirror, met with the dark-eyed gaze of both her own and her mother’s reflections. They looked alike, she was aware of that, aside for the cold self-righteousness that seemed to radiate from her mother’s stare. ‘You are beautiful, Regina. You have elegance, grace, youth. Why you’re barely 30…’

‘I’m not yet 30, mother.’

‘You lack the innocence of a young bride, of course, but being a widow lends you a certain _gravitas_. And no man can really be too fussy in a war. You just need to move home, away from the city. Only ugly girls live in the city. The only way they can find a husband is to surround themselves with men.’ In the mirror, the reflection of Cora smiled. Regina felt herself shrink. She prised herself away from her mother’s touch. ‘You don’t need that. You can live here, safely, away from the squalor of London. Marry a great man. What more could you possibly want?’

‘I want to be great on my own, by my own doing.’

‘No woman can be great on her own. You need land, status, for that. There’s the family home but that is mine really, Regina. Besides…’ Cora gave a low, cool chuckle. ‘How could you possibly be great?’

Even having heard her mother speak such a way before, the words still stung Regina. ‘There are women helping the war effort. Working as nurses, in factories…as ambulance drivers.’

‘And you think you could do those things?’ Regina had sat down once more and Cora approached her, a smile on her face that seemed to read as both maternal and condescending. _Though the two seemed to overlap often with Cora_. She held out a hand for her daughter to take before cupping her face gently. ‘You are not made for those things, Regina. We are not made for those things. You can’t work, you wouldn’t manage it. You are made for marriage, for dinner parties, for children. Those are your callings. Don’t forget that again.’

* * *

 

 _Marriage. Dinner parties. Children._ She sighed. _Marriage. Dinner parties. Children_. She stopped pacing her room to stand still in thought. She didn’t even know whether she could muster enough anger to warrant the effort of trying. The first time her mother had said such a thing, when Regina was a mere ten years old, she had felt anger. She had been a ten year old dreamer. She wanted to explore the oceans in her picture books. See the great ‘America’ her father spoke so highly of. She knew nothing she wanted less than marriage, dinner parties, or children.

The second time her mother had said it had been the incident. Regina had felt white hot fury after that. Although, still, it had resulted in nothing. She did what her mother wanted. She always did what her mother wanted.

A knock on the bedroom door. A timid, uncertain knock that came from the hand of just one person. ‘Miss Regina?’

The Mills family home once swarmed with servants. Valets and butlers, gardeners and maids. The home had escaped the war in every way except for the loss of the serving staff. Men called to the army, women called home following the deaths of brothers or fathers or called to the city for more exciting, ‘glamorous’ war work. Now, just a handful remained, those too old to serve or those, like Sidney Glass who was stood in the doorway cautiously, who were unwanted by the British army.

‘I hope I’m not interrupting, Miss Regina?’

‘Of course not, Sidney.’ She knew what he wanted. She always knew what he wanted. She’d known what he wanted from her since she was eighteen years old. It had made their relationship much more interesting. She put on a smile. ‘What is it you’d like?’

‘I merely wished to say that I couldn’t help but overhear you and your mother...’ _Couldn’t help but overhear? More likely he had his ear pressed to the door._ ‘I just wanted to tell you that she was incredibly harsh to you, I believe.’

‘Are you questioning the lady of the house, Sidney?’

At her accusing tone, his eyes widened. ‘No. No, of course not. I just wished to say that, with you, I believe she was unjust.’

‘What about me?’ She asked, her stare unwavering, causing him to gulp noticeably which, had Regina been a witness to the conversation rather than participate, she would have found greatly amusing.

‘You could do great things, Miss Regina. Anything you would like to do, you could be great at. A nurse or ambulance driver. You could be great at either, I’m sure. You need not always do as your mother wishes. You could be great on your own.’

She smiled again, sweet and staged, but which she knew he would mistake for genuine gratitude. ‘Why thank you, Sidney. That really means a lot.’

* * *

 

Emma Swan was lighting a cigarette when the phone rang, causing her to jump and burn her fingers on the match. Cursing, she let the cigarette fall from her mouth and she picked up the phone with her unburnt hand.

‘Hello?’

‘Miss Swan, I presume?’

Emma smiled as she recognised the voice on the other end of the phone. ‘Mrs Fabell?’

‘Miss Mills again. My husband died. I see no point in carrying his name around with me any longer.’

 _You waste no time_ , Emma wanted to say, but found she couldn’t bring herself to be so cruel. ‘How have you been?’

She ignored Emma’s question, social niceties in a phone conversation always felt like a ridiculous convention to her. ‘Is your offer still open, Miss Swan? For your assistance should I need anything?’

‘Yes. I don’t remember giving you a time restriction,’ she joked, but it fell flat on the line.

‘Good. Then I need to see you tomorrow at eleven.’ She gave her the address, which Emma recorded with her scorched fingers. ‘Be on time, Miss Swan. Oh, and wear black.’


	3. To Ration Tea is Absurd

**Chapter 3**

**To Ration Tea is Absurd**

The wind had howled all morning. It had ripped at trees, tearing off branches, as though nature could re-enact the violence of the war. Where possible, streets had been deserted with people choosing to miss their daily walk for fear of losing their hats, or their bags, or their children. The conspiracy mad whispered that it was the work of Hitler. They murmured that along with Hitler waging a war on two fronts, he had also managed to build a weather machine and was attacking Britain with that to weaken her before the invasion. Such theories were shut down when the wind suddenly died come midday and instead the winter sun just hung limply in the sky. It was still cold, colder than usually expected from November, but still not cold enough to justify any theories of weather control.

In the cold, Emma Swan and Regina Mills were sat. Regina’s eyes were directed forward, her head up proudly, a position Emma could see was natural to her, having been taught it from so young. She was wrapped in black fur, genuine from what Emma could tell, though she was desperate to feel it to check. In the day, and with Regina not covered in ash, she could get a better look at the politician’s wife. Dark features, hair and eyes. She had long black eyelashes, visible even beneath make-up. The kind of eyelashes she knew men admired, for men admire the strangest things about women. Clear, high cheekbones, made clearer with make-up that bordered on excessive for a woman so young. But then, Regina wasn’t like her, Emma reminded herself. Whereas she wanted nothing more than to hide into the background, Regina had been born and raised to stand out, to attract attention. She did it well.

‘What did you think then, Miss Swan?’ Regina broke the silence first, turning to Emma with a raised eyebrow.

‘When you invited me out and asked me to wear black, I never once considered that you wanted to me to attend your husband’s funeral with you.’

Regina’s lips curved into a wicked smile. ‘Late husband, Miss Swan. And of course, I could hardly go alone, his daughter hates me.’

‘His daughter? Isn’t that…?’

‘No, from his first marriage. She’s older than I am and bitter about it. She’s convinced I’m planning to disinherit her.’

‘And are you?’

‘Of course.’ She frowned, as if she had never once had to explain her actions before and now such questions confused her. ‘The fewer people set to inherit, the more I inherit. You clearly have never done this before.’ It was a hint, but Emma stayed silent. ‘Besides, there is no reason why she should inherit so much for just happening to be his daughter, and I inherit less when I have had to work harder. She’ll still get something; its worth will just be more…sentimental than she wants.’

With that, the two women fell silent again. Regina feeling she had given away too much to someone who would never understand, Emma wishing she had been born closer to the upper class world of her companion if only to not seem so naïve.

‘Thank you for this, Miss Swan…’

‘Would you like to have tea?’

The two women spoke at the same time, and then stopped. At Regina’s silence, it was left to Emma to continue speaking.

‘Emma, you can call me Emma.’

‘I much prefer Miss Swan.’

‘Well it’s been a difficult morning for you. My flat is close, I can make tea if you’d like. Beats sitting out here in the cold all day.’ Emma suggested, trying to sound casual, but almost desperate for the meeting to not quite be over. She didn’t want to let this woman go without a better understanding of who she really was. ‘Of course, you have places to be no doubt and…’

‘You don’t have anything stronger?’

‘I don’t keep alcohol in the house.’ She offered no further explanation, and Regina nodded.

‘Tea it is.’

* * *

 

There were two ways to get to Emma’s flat from the church: to walk, or to catch the bus. Regina wrinkled her nose when Emma suggested the bus, disgusted by even the thought of public transport, her being surrounded by fellow citizens of London. But all it had taken was for her companion to point out the height of the heel of Regina’s black boot for her to smooth out her face once more and agree to the bus.

She sat silent for the entire journey, gloved hands clasped in her lap, as if trying to make her frame so narrow that it need not touch anything, either the passengers or the bus itself. It took all of Emma’s self-restraint not to chuckle at the sight, not to laugh every time the bus almost lurched to a stop and Regina had to desperately stop herself from falling against the dirty window. At any moment, she almost expected the socialite to stand up and dart off the bus, a thirty minute ride on public transport too much for her delicate senses. Emma could swear she heard an audible sigh of relief when it the bus reached their stop.

‘This way, Miss Mills.’ Emma smiled and gestured once the two women were back on the London streets.

* * *

 

Emma Swan lived in a small flat above an antiques shop in East London. At the sight of the shop, Regina frowned, but continued to follow Emma inside nonetheless. The shop was small also, and crowded, full of objects that would not look out of place in either a specialist museum, or alternatively on a bonfire. There were old, leather bound books, their gilded lettering faded. In glass cabinets sat stuffed animals, and bottles full of strange coloured liquids. In one cabinet, there was a sword, its blade gleaming although the glass itself was covered in dust. Pride of place however, there was a spinning wheel, almost identical to one Regina had seen in a book of fairy tales as a child. _In fact,_ she thought, _the whole shop could have been pulled straight out of a story book and it would look no stranger._

‘You live above this shop?’ She asked Emma.

‘I always have.’

‘How is it possibly still open? Is there really much call for these _things_ in the middle of a war? Who buys these?’

‘Well, dearie, for the answer to that question you’ll need to look much closer to home.’ From the back of the shop, a man had appeared, a wicked smile on his face. He was middle-aged, his face lined but in a way that only served to heighten an air of cunning intelligence. His hair was longer than that of most men, almost to his shoulders, and unlike most men he was dressed smart. He approached the two women from the back, walking with a noticeable limp. Although everything about him was irrelevant compared to the mischievous glittering of his eyes. ‘You see, the only people who can afford anything in here tend to be your people.’

‘My people?’

‘The upper class. The rich. Those with far more money than sense.’ He smiled again, as if such a gesture could counter the cut of his words.

‘You don’t know anything about me,’ Regina said defensively, the idea of her being so easy to read being far more painful for her than anything the man had said.

‘You’re wearing real fur, my dear, unless I am incredibly mistaken. That is all I need to know.’

‘Mr Gold,’ Emma interrupted quickly, recognising clearly the conflict that was about to arise. ‘Where’s Henry?’

‘Not so quickly, Miss Swan, payment first.’ He held out a hand into which Emma handed some slips of paper. He counted them before slipping them into his pocket. ‘Thank you, Miss Swan, pleasure doing business. Henry is upstairs.’

Emma led her guest out of the store again and to the door to the upstairs flats. She noticed Regina’s flickering stare, between the door in front of them, and the shop. ‘That was Mr Gold, if that’s what you’re wondering.’

‘I realised that when you used his name,’ she replied sarcastically. ‘Who is he? And, before you reply, I am aware he owns a shop.’

‘He’s the husband of one of the ambulance girls. I rent the flat above his, I met his wife, she got me to join the ambulance service.’ She opened the door and gestured for Regina to step inside. It was narrow, with just an old flight of stairs leading upwards. They began the climb. ‘She’s a decent girl. I wouldn’t touch him if it wasn’t for her.’

‘What did you give him?’

‘They’re ration slips. It’s payment. He won’t do anything without a price.’

‘Payment for what?’

As the women approached the first landing, the wooden door burst open with a loud shout. ‘Mother.’

_Mother?_

‘Henry.’ Emma smiled and pulled the boy into a close hug as she reached him. After a moment or so, she remembered the woman stood beside her. ‘Henry, this is Regina Mills, she’s a…friend.’

‘Henry.’ Regina smiled and he held out a hand to introduce himself. Looking into his face, he was undeniably Emma’s. His hair was darker than Emma’s, his eyes a different colour, he seemed quieter than her. But as he shook her hand, she could see an undeniable connection. They shared a smile. ‘Your mother helped to save me, Henry. She’s a very brave woman.’

‘One day, I’m going to be as brave as she is. I’m going to be a soldier.’ He stuck his chest out with pride as he said it. ‘Mr Gold’s been telling me all about the Great War. All the battles he fought in. All the Germans he killed. I’m going to do that too one day.’

‘Not for a while yet.’ Emma ruffled his hair as she spoke, and Henry pulled away, smoothing it back down, embarrassed.

‘I’m eleven years old. That means I just have to wait five more years before I can sign up. The war will last five more years, won’t it?’

‘I sure hope not, for your sake.’

‘I’ll be the bravest soldier. I’ll kill hundreds of Nazis. I’ll find Hitler and I’ll sock him one straight in the face. That’ll show him for trying to invade us.’ He had his fists up, hitting out at thin air as if Hitler was there himself in spirit.

‘Henry, go down and see if Mr Gold needs any help in the shop, before you cause yourself an injury.’ She gestured back down the stairs and Henry went, his head far enough away in his own story to miss any possible insult from his mother. Once he was out of the door, Emma turned back to Regina. ‘He’s a sweet kid. Gold just fills his head with nonsense. Stories of the glorious Great War. All lies. Gold never fought any battles, he was injured very early on, sent home to recover. Not that Henry knows any of that, I don’t want to be the mother who takes her son’s heroes from him.’

The two women continued climbing the stairs until they reached the top landing. Emma unlocked the door and they entered, Regina scanning the flat curiously, Emma heading straight to the kitchen area.

‘Tea?’ Emma asked. ‘Before the war, I’d have offered hot chocolate. That’s mine and Henry’s favourite, but rationing makes everything so much harder to get hold of.’

‘Especially when you give away most of your rations,’ Regina muttered, thinking back to the deal downstairs. ‘Do you not have family to look after Henry? I thought you said you were unmarried, besides?’

‘Mr Gold is the only option I have.’

‘Henry’s father?’ Regina turned from the cupboard she had been inspecting to meet Emma’s stare. ‘What about Henry’s father?’

‘I was married. He died.’

‘Shame.’

The two women’s eyes remained interlocked, only broken by the sudden screaming of the kettle, announcing the boiling of the water. With that, Emma’s attention diverted and Regina returned to investigating the ambulance driver’s flat. When Emma eventually brought over the two cups of tea, she placed them on a table by the window, and gestured for Regina to join her.

‘I’m sorry if it’s a bit weak, Henry wastes a lot of the tea rations so I have to make do with what’s left. I think he forgets he’s living in the middle of a war.’

‘Or he thinks, as many do, that the British government can ration whatever they like, but to ration tea is absurd.’ Regina took a sip of her pale drink, and was grateful Emma had already apologised for it so she did not have to pretend to be overly impressed. ‘Though I perhaps can’t really complain, my late husband had many failings, but at least he never failed to get hold of tea.’

‘The benefits of being married to an MP,’ Emma muttered, and Regina gave a little smirk.

‘Bitter, Miss Swan?’

‘Of course not. It’s only fair that the men who lead us into wars are allowed to sit in offices and drink tea whilst the rest of the country fights their battles.’ Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, more than even she realised she was capable of, and she expected the other woman to take offence. Instead, her smirk just became an amused smile.

‘And you said you lacked the class for satire.’ Regina chuckled, causing Emma to blush slightly at both the reference to their first meeting, and the reality of her bitter retort. ‘You’re wrong, of course. My late husband had long been disgraced by the time this war started, although he did vote in favour of the Great War.’

‘I didn’t realise he was disgraced?’

‘You saw how many people attended his funeral. He was hardly the most popular MP in London.’

‘I suppose I didn’t really notice…’

‘You haven’t been trained to notice. It’s not your fault, merely the fault of your birth.’ She waved a gloved hand dismissively, ignorant to the harsh cut of her words. ‘If he’d have been able to see, he’d have been far more offended by the lack of mourners than by the fact he was dead. After all, he did once say that the price for great victories was death. It was his justification for much of the Great War.’ Regina paused for a moment before frowning. ‘Although, I imagine he was just thinking of the working classes when he said that.’

Perhaps the words had been too revealing, or too honest, making perhaps too clear the class differences to the women, but there was silence after Regina finished speaking. Emma continued to sip her tea, Regina had completely abandoned the effort. Neither woman could quite meet the other’s eyes, their gaze directed anywhere but each other. Only when they accidentally made eye contact did Emma find the courage to speak.

‘Still, being able to live without rationing must be good. The ambulance girls are always complaining about the rationing. The woman who helped with your husband, Red, she would kill for some real chocolate again.’

‘What about you? If rationing ended tomorrow, what would be the first thing you’d go for?’

She paused momentarily, her eyes flicking towards the door. ‘Hot chocolate, I reckon, for Henry.’

* * *

 

Two days later, a package arrived downstairs in Mr Gold’s store. In cursive handwriting on the brown wrapping paper, there were just two words. _Miss Swan_. She opened it to find two tins of hot chocolate, and a large bar of chocolate with Red’s name written on the top.


	4. Both Friends and Acquaintances

**Chapter 4**

**Both Friends and Acquaintances**

They met three more times in the following two weeks. Always in Emma’s flat. She enquired once about Regina’s living arrangements, thinking back to the destruction of the townhouse ( _‘had that only been three weeks before?’_ ) but Regina had given a vague answer about staying with one of her city friends. In fact, Emma had come to learn that Regina gave many vague answers. Her whole life seemed vague. Together they discussed many things, simple and serious, but two weeks later and Emma felt she knew the socialite no better than she did their very first meeting. They were both friends and acquaintances simultaneously.

The ambulance girls loved her, however. It started with just the chocolate for Red, but each time she visited, Regina bought more. Once it was hose, high quality pairs, for each of the women. Another visit was tea, the idea being that the women would be much better drivers if they had something warm and strong to drink first. Red started asking after her, smirking at Emma as she arrived into work, as if she knew there was a present to expect. Or, at least that’s what Emma presumed, she could she no other reason for Red’s sudden interest in a woman she had vehemently denounced only weeks before.

‘Swan, seen Miss Mills recently?’ Red called from across the ambulance station as Emma arrived. At the sight of Emma’s shaking head, she chuckled. ‘Your new chum lost interest?’

‘Actually, Emma, we wanted to talk to you.’ Mary Margaret appeared at Red’s side suddenly, her face posed to look innocently concerned.

‘Yeah? What about?’ Emma walked straight past them and up the stairs. There were three rooms; the sleeping quarters, a main room for relaxation complete with just about enough chairs for half of the drivers to sit down, and Granny’s office. There was also a small room for the women to wash after a shift. Emma headed into the main room and sat down, lighting a cigarette. She was quickly followed by the two other women.

‘About Mrs Fabell, of course.’ Mary Margaret refused to use any other name for her. _Marriage is for life_ , she said once, _not just until one of you dies._ It was the logic the women expected from her. ‘We just aren’t sure about your…companionship with her.’

‘My companionship?’ Emma nearly choked on her smoke.

‘You don’t know what she wants from you, Emma. You have to be careful,’ Blanchard said, her face still carefully composed. She sat down in the chair next to Emma. ‘I know women like her. You can’t trust her. Working women mean nothing to women like her. I should know.’

Mary Margaret Blanchard was the daughter of one of the most well-connected aristocrats in the country. Rumour had it that the family stretched back into the 12th Century, and had at least one claim to the British throne. The family had a large estate in the South-West, and another in the North, although both had been occupied by the military during the war. Mary Margaret spent eighteen happy years in her family home before she was forced out by her father’s second wife, her stepmother, and forced to make her own way amongst more ordinary people. _A regular Snow White_ , Red had joked when Blanchard had first told them of her family history, and the name had stuck, although no-one had bothered to explain why to Blanchard.

‘Pipe down, Snow, and leave Swan alone.’

‘You were saying all of this only weeks ago, Red, and worse.’

‘Worse?’ Emma asked angrily. ‘I’m not a bloody child, and I’m not doing anything bloody wrong. I’m having tea with a friend; I don’t need you to check up on me like an invalid. Besides, none of you are doing too badly out of it.’

At that, Red’s face fell sheepishly. ‘I know, Swan, that’s why I backed off. I told you my concerns weeks ago. None of them came to pass, I worried without cause. I’m sorry.’

‘We didn’t want to sound overbearing, Emma. I couldn’t bear it if you thought we were too overbearing to be friends.’ Snow grabbed Emma’s hand, and she resisted the urge to shake her off. ‘It’s all just so unheard of. And the gifts too. We just want to know why.’

‘We’re friends. It’s war. It’s just simple kindness.’ Emma shrugged, but she didn’t sound certain. The gifts confused her sometimes, especially as she had nothing to give in return.

‘That’s not what Rumple thinks.’ From the opposite corner, Belle Gold stood up and crossed the room to the girls. ‘He said he could tell from the moment he met that woman.’

‘Tell what, Gold?’ Red asked, visibly irritated at the mention of Mr Gold’s name. She thought so much more highly of Belle before she had started listening to her husband.

‘Well, you know, what she was.’ Belle shrugged.

‘Which is?’

‘You know…’ Belle visibly reddened before whispering, ‘a queer.’

The women collectively groaned as she said it. Red shook her head. ‘That’s shit and you know it.’

‘Rumple says it’s really common in the upper class. They all go out and pick a working class woman, buy her presents, and then get her to…you know…do stuff.’ She blushed harder. ‘He says rich women are worse than rich men with their games.’

‘And does your darling Rumple have a lot of experience with rich queers, then?’ Red asked, eyebrow raised.

‘Why else would she get all the gifts?’

‘How about she actually likes Swan?’

‘That’s still a lot of…’

The alarm interrupted them, its shrill cry deafening the women into silence. Without a word being uttered, they all knew exactly what was coming. And in unison, their hearts all skipped a beat.

It was less than a second later when Granny flew into the room. On her face was a look of panic she had never shown to her drivers before. Their hearts were now pounding. ‘It’s a big one, girls. One bombing but maximum damage. Almost an entire street wiped out. I need you all there. Look sharp, girls, it’s going to be a busy night for us tonight.’

The argument was dropped. Forgotten. All attention focused on the task in hand. Swan followed the three other women to the basement to their cars. She nodded over at Snow and Gold as they climbed in their ambulance, a wordless signal to let them know that all hostilities were gone, they were a team once more. The two women nodded back as they pulled away, a look of extreme concentration on Snow’s face at the wheel. Emma watched them leave, before climbing into her own ambulance besides Red.

‘I am sorry about all the awful things that were said,’ Red commented, her eyes not moving from the road ahead as she focused on driving.

‘Keep focused,’ Emma said, before shaking her head. ‘No apology needed. I’ll start listening to what Gold has to say when he stops telling my son that he beat the entire German army in battle.’

‘Belle needs to stop listening to him so closely. She was so much more interesting before.’ She didn’t say before when. _Before the war? Before her wedding? Before Gold?_ All could have been true.

‘I forget you knew her then.’ The women were speaking without looking at each other; their focus remained on the road ahead, on the silence of the evening streets.

‘She used to love reading. She’d recommend long lists of books for me. I never read them, but pretending I did seemed to make her happy.’

‘How long ago was that?’

Emma never got an answer to her question because it was at that moment that the ambulance turned into the bomb-struck street. It was a narrow street, a street reminiscent of the city’s boom in the 19th Century, and the slums that had been built as desperate compensation. Although that mattered little now, as houses that had once been within mere breathing space of each other were now little more than piles of brick and ash, lit only by the torches of those patrolling. And there were a great number of patrols. It was not just Granny who had sent out her ambulance drivers to the site; it seemed to Emma that there were at least five different ambulance patrols, as well as those of the fire brigade and presumably the warden.

The two women climbed out of the ambulance and were immediately hit by the smoke. Somewhere, a fire must be raging, but the air was too thick to see through. All around, there was noise. Ambulance drivers shouting to each other. People crying. A baby was howling. The site was chaos, pure chaos.

Whilst Red fetched the equipment from the back, Emma gestured to a member of the fire brigade who was running past. ‘What’s happening? This place is a mess. The warden. Where’s the warden?’

‘Warden’s dead, miss.’ She was young, her accent pure cockney. ‘Street said he was a drunk. Didn’t do his job properly. Didn’t even signal for a raid. No-one knew. Only a couple made it to the bunkers. Most were still in their homes.’

‘How many dead?’

‘A better question, miss, would be how many are still alive?’

Emma watched the woman run off with a chill. Red came back to her side and handed her a medical kit. ‘We can’t stand here, Swan. We need to find the warden.’

‘He’s dead.’

‘Then we need to find whoever’s in charge.’

She was grateful for Red at times like this. Red kept her head straight when she knew Emma wouldn’t. She knew Emma was thinking of the baby, still screaming fiercely into the night. The two women made their way swiftly down the street, passing piles of debris as they went. Emma couldn’t help but think back to the explosion at Regina’s house. If her debris had been ivory and silk, here it was only poverty. Charred books that had been thumbed so often their pages were thin and yellow, clothes that, even though black with ash, would have been black with age and dirt long before the bomb. The piles though were smaller than Emma would have imagined, but then the houses were not big enough to leave anything else. There were other things amongst the debris, black and charred, and it made Emma slightly sick to think what they were.

She looked back up from the room where she’d been staring at something on the ground, something that was still pink despite burning, to see Red deep in conversation with a member of the fire brigade. She was gesturing further through the smoke and Red nodded before beginning to walk in the same direction. Emma followed her.

The crying of the baby was getting louder as they walked, and it soon became apparent why. The fire brigade had managed to locate as many survivors from the street as possible, but had left them where they were found, with no medical help being possible until the ambulances arrived. Red and Emma had been directed to a group of three people, including the baby, who was being held awkwardly by a young girl as its mother, presumably, lay on the ground. At the sight of the two women approaching, the woman on the ground moaned.

‘Where’s Killian? I need Killian. He’d said he’d be here. He promised.’ She was panting heavily, her hands on her stomach, which made more sense as the woman got closer and could see the curvature of her heavily pregnant form. ‘I can’t do this without him.’

‘Do not worry. We’re members of the ambulance service. You’re going to be alright.’ Emma took control, feeling her senses clear now faced with someone else to focus on. As she knelt down by the woman’s legs, she realised how young she was. She couldn’t be more than eighteen years old. Her eyes were bright and wide, and scared. Emma began speaking more softly. ‘You’re ok. Everything will be fine. What’s your name?’

A pause. ‘Ella.’

‘Ella. Ok, Ella. Do you know what happened?’

‘There was a bomb. We made it to the shelter.’ It made sense. The three of them, Ella and the two children, had very few injuries. The little girl had some minor grazes, there was a bit of blood, but nowhere near as bad as the destruction on the rest of the street. ‘It was loud. Something fell. I’m not sure. But now…’ She was panting still, her head back, her teeth clenched in pain. She was clearly in labour. Beside her, the baby was still screaming. Emma looked up from Ella to meet the little girl’s eyes.

‘My name’s Wendy. The baby is Ella’s. He’s called Michael.’ She stopped, biting her lip nervously. ‘Can you help me? I need to…’

‘In a moment, Wendy. Can you give Ruby the baby please? Give Michael to Ruby,’ Emma said gently, and watched as Wendy handed over the baby before staring at the ground. Emma turned back to Ella. ‘You’re having a baby, Ella, we need to get you to an…’

‘I’m not supposed to have it yet. I have three more months. Three. It’s too early. The bomb made it too early.’ She lay back again and Emma turned to Red. If the baby was three months early, the chances of survival were slim, almost non-existent, that was if the baby was even still alive. She turned back to look at Ella. Her stomach was well-rounded, possibly too much so for just six months. She might have the date wrong. Especially as, Emma noted looking quickly at Ella’s hands, she was unmarried. Unmarried and living here, she would not have consulted a good doctor, if she consulted a doctor at all. There was strong chance Ella had the dates wrong. In which case, there was a good chance the baby would live yet. But they needed to get to an ambulance quickly.

‘Ella, we need to take you to hospital.’

‘No. I’m not going. Not without Killian.’ Killian was presumably the father. ‘He promised he’d be here.’

‘Ella, we don’t know where Killian is.’

‘He’s the warden. You just need to find the warden.’

The ambulance drivers quickly exchanged a glance. Swan started speaking, ‘Ella, we need to tell you…’

‘We can’t find him.’ Red interrupted, inwardly cursing Swan for even starting to say anything. ‘We need to tell you we can’t find him. Look out there, Ella, it’s chaos. We can’t stay here just because we can’t find Killian. We need to get you to a hospital. Without a hospital, there’s a chance your baby might not live and we couldn’t bear that.’

Ella looked up at Red. Her eyes were glistening with the beginnings of tears. ‘I need him. I’m scared.’

‘This is the best chance for you and your baby, Ella.’ Red held out a free hand and Ella took it hesitantly. Swan stood and helped lift her to her feet. ‘Really good, Ella. We need to take you to the ambulance now.’

They turned to walk her to the vehicle when Emma felt a tug on her uniform. The little girl, Wendy, looked up at her, face stained with ash and tears. They’d forgotten about her whilst dealing with Ella, and they were just about to leave her.

‘Wendy, come with us.’

‘I can’t.’ She was gulping back further tears as she spoke. She was young, younger than Emma first thought her to be. Maybe six? Seven? ‘My daddy. My daddy’s still here. He’s lost. You need to help me find him. Please.’

Emma stopped. She’d presumed, perhaps foolishly, that the girl was with Ella. A younger sister, maybe even her daughter. She supposed the assumption had been made when she’d seen Wendy holding the baby, which was Ella’s child. But then there had just been an air raid and now Ella was in possible early labour, she’d have handed her baby to anyone. Even a little girl.

‘Please, miss, I need to find my daddy.’

She looked over at Red who nodded, and Emma turned back to Wendy. ‘My friend Ruby is going to take Ella to hospital. I’m going to help you find your father.’

She let Wendy take her hand and lead her back over the rubble. She kept looking back to watch as Red and Ella made their way to the ambulance, watching them until they were lost in the smoke. She was worried about the smoke. Wendy was only small, her body thin, too much smoke and she wouldn’t be able to continue. And now she didn’t have Red, also.

Lost in thought, she didn’t realise Wendy had been speaking to her. ‘…but my daddy was outside.’

‘Outside what?’

‘The bunker.’ Wendy looked up at her. ‘When the bomb dropped. Ella made sure that we were all inside but my daddy was outside. He said he had to go and get something.’

‘How do you know Ella?’ _She had to be a relative of sorts_ , Emma thought, _a cousin maybe?_

‘She came to our house one day and needed somewhere to live. She had a baby. My daddy let her stay. He said he felt sorry for her. He said it wasn’t her fault. He said he felt for her plight,’ Wendy explained. They were clearly her father’s exact words. ‘But, I’m not sure what he meant. But she’s nice. And I like Michael. Except when he cries, then I think he’s…’

‘Stop.’ Emma held up her hand. Around them was still the chaos of the raid, but there was a closer noise. Moaning.

‘What?

‘Shh.’ Emma held up her torch in the direction of the sound to see a shape like a hand underneath some rubble. She turned to Wendy. ‘Go and get another ambulance driver.

Wendy ran off as Emma approached the shape carefully. The moaning was louder as she got closer, which meant the person was still alive. The piles of rubble were larger here. _The roof collapsed_ , she thought. She was no member of the fire brigade though; she couldn’t lift anything should someone be trapped. She should have sent Wendy to fetch the fire brigade. She’d reached the hand now. She knelt down slowly to see a man lying under rubble, his head and one arm visible above the debris. There was blood on his face, perhaps from an unclear head injury. Although his arm was free, it seemed limp and unmoving. If it wasn’t for the moaning, she wouldn’t have even thought he was alive. But at the sound of her footsteps, he opened his eyes to meet hers. And she felt her heart stop.

* * *

 

The house was silent when the phone rang. It was early in the morning, not yet three. The only person awake was the butler, who picked up the receiver with an irritated snarl, although he regained his composure before he spoke.

‘Lady De Vil’s household. May I ask who is calling?’

‘I need to speak to Regina.’ A woman. She had an accent. _A working woman._ He felt disgusted even talking to her.

‘Miss Mills has retired, as she is accustomed to do at night. As the vast majority of people are accustomed to do at night. I suggest you phone back at a more reasonable hour.’ He couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice, nor did he attempt to. This was no-one important.

‘I need to speak to her, please.’

‘Then phone at a more convenient time.’

‘It’s Emma Swan. Please, I need her.’

Within half an hour, Regina Mills was awake without complaint, dressed, and on her way across London, heading towards Miss Emma Swan.


	5. A Lie

**Chapter 5**

**A Lie**

Emma Swan was halfway through a cup of tea when Regina arrived. From a glance, the tea looked strong, almost the whole of a weekly ration. Regina was glad she’d brought her the other box. From her bag, Regina pulled a glass bottle.

‘Gin,’ she said, placing it on the table in front of the ambulance driver. ‘I know you don’t keep it in your house, but I figured you wouldn’t refuse any now.’

Emma didn’t say anything, but instead fetched two small mugs from a cupboard in her kitchen. She said nothing at all until she was pouring the gin into Regina’s glass, and then it was only a passing statement. ‘I didn’t know you knew Lady De Vil.’

‘Who doesn’t know Lady De Vil?’ Regina asked, taking the mug with an amused smirk and sipping it. Emma noted the lack of expression on her face as she did so. ‘We’re hardly friends, she just happens to be one of the few people I know in London with room spare.’

‘I’ve heard nothing good about her.’

‘You would be hard pressed to. You didn’t call this morning to ask me about my social connections though, I presume?’ Regina raised an eyebrow. ‘I cannot recall a time I was woken so forcibly from my bed. Why am I here, Miss Swan?’

‘I needed to talk.’

‘You have the ambulance girls.’

‘It had to be you.’

A pause. ‘Intriguing.’ She sipped again on her mug. ‘What’s happened?’

This time it was Emma to drink from her mug, although she drank longer before pulling away with a disgusted face. Already however, she could feel the warmth of the liquor in her body, the liquid courage beginning to take its effect. ‘A man died today.’

‘Which given this is a war and you are a member of the ambulance service, you’d think to be a daily occurrence for you. What else?’

‘I thought I knew him.’ She expected an interruption from the socialite, but was met with silence. She took another swig before speaking. ‘I’ve lied to you, Regina.’

‘As I’m sure I have to you, but I’m struggling to follow…’

‘You asked about Henry’s father, the first time you were here. I told you he was dead. But that’s not strictly true.’ A pause. ‘I don’t know where Henry’s father is. I haven’t known where Henry’s father is for the last eleven years. He left the minute he knew I was expecting Henry. Said he didn’t need a bastard child to look after.’ She glanced up at Regina’s face and nodded. ‘Yes, Henry follows a great tradition of bastard children in the Swan family. He takes after his mother very well.’

The socialite was shocked, although less so for the reason Emma had presumed so. She’d had suspicions about Henry’s parentage since she’d first asked, she was simply waiting for Emma to explain it without questioning, but she had never expected it put so bluntly. Every word from Emma’s mouth felt somewhat defensive, as if she expected Regina to attack her at any moment. But then, there seemed like there was something else there too, a desperation of some kind, a need to tell her everything as if she had not had chance before.

‘Miss Swan.’ She paused, then let her voice become softer. She reached across the table for Emma’s hand. ‘Emma. I know a great many women who do not know where the father of their children is. It’s practically a mark of being wealthy. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.’

‘That’s entirely different. I’m not wealthy. I have to explain myself,’ she said, her eyes wide. ‘You’re the only person I can explain myself to.’

‘Then I won’t stop you.’

‘I didn’t have parents. I’ve never had parents. I grew up in an orphanage for girls just outside London.’ She’d been waiting to say this, Regina realised, to talk to someone about her history. It was clear from just her voice, low but clear. She just hadn’t had the audience before. ‘When I was really young, I liked to imagine that my father was a brave soldier in the war who’d fallen in love with a nurse in France, who’d come home to have me before returning to continue her nursing.’ She smiled while explaining it, a nostalgic smile, before suddenly frowning. ‘It was one of the matrons who told me how bad I was at arithmetic. I was born one year before the war started, she told me, so my mother wasn’t a brave nurse, she was just a poor slut.’ At the grimace on Regina’s face as she spoke, Emma gave a bitter chuckle. ‘Those were her exact words. I was seven years old. That was when I realised just how people saw me. I wasn’t even a poor slut, like my mother, I was lower than that. I was a poor slut’s daughter. My father was probably a drunk. From seven years old I knew that. I hated my mother for it. I never knew her but I hated her.’

 _What was I doing at seven years old?_ Regina thought. Horse-riding. She had singing lessons. She had a father who adored her, she knew that for sure. And a mother who was in no way a ‘poor slut’.

‘I hated that place. I ran away at fifteen. There was a girl who was older than me, she had a place, I stayed with her. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was better than being there. She had a factory job. She got me one too. It was low wages, course, and dangerous, but it meant no matrons hissing down your neck. And I met Neal.’ Another smile, this one perhaps unconsciously. ‘He was older than me, only slightly, and he was sweet. We had fun. And then I realised I was expecting Henry. Neal left, I lost my job, and I was no better than my mother. A poor slut.’ At that, she glanced towards one of the doors which Regina presumed to be Henry’s room. ‘Henry knows nothing. I told him I was married to his father and he died. I can’t remember the exact story. I think I said he was travelling America. Something glamorous for him to dream about. I didn’t tell him he was born on the floor of a _Home for Desperate Women_. Or that I very nearly gave him away.’

‘You didn’t, though.’

‘I was set to. I had told myself how I couldn’t take care of him. I was eighteen. I was homeless. I had no money. I had no idea where Neal was. I was in no condition to take care of a baby. But I realised that I was in the same position as my mother must have been, and I remembered how much I had hated her as a child. I couldn’t let that happen to Henry. So I took him. I made up a story about a dead husband to get money from those ridiculous women’s refuge charities. They were tight though, I never had enough.’ Regina didn’t interrupt to tell her that her own mother was chair of two different women’s refuge organisations, and had very harsh views of women who lied to get money. Especially unmarried women who told stories of dead husbands. ‘I found somewhere to stay; I just needed to fund it. I started stealing. Only bits and dabs. Small things. Things people wouldn’t miss.’

She really had expected Regina to interrupt her there. She was a slut and a thief with a bastard son, she had expected Regina to grab the gin back and storm out, but she remained sat opposite her, dark eyes focused solely on her. Her hand did move towards the gin bottle, but only to top up both women’s mugs. She stayed silent however, her own way of gesturing to her companion to continue. Emma just shrugged though.

‘The rest is boring. I was caught, as to be expected, by Mr Gold. I went into his shop to take something, it was small but looked valuable, and he caught me. I expected him to turn me in, but instead he set me up here with the expectation that I would work for him to pay my debt back.’

‘You said he caught you before you took anything?’

‘To Gold, the act of stealing is just as bad as accomplishing it. It turned out the item was valueless, but I didn’t know. For all I knew, I was taking something incredibly valuable that could have resulted in his loss. Plus, he didn’t hand me over. So he saw me as indebted to him, and he still does.’ She stared at the mug in front of her. ‘I remain a thief in his eyes.’

There were a few moments of silence. Emma had finished talking now, and she remained staring at her mug, expecting Regina’s judgement at any moment. Regina, however, was still focused on Emma, still waiting expectantly. When it became clear that Emma was not continuing any further, she prompted her.

‘So why tonight then, Miss Swan? What happened tonight?’

She looked up, meeting her companion’s eyes finally. ‘Tonight, I found Neal again.’

The man had been lying, crushed beneath rubble, his head and arm the only parts of him above surface. She remembered the sudden stop of her heart as she looked into his face, the familiar curve of his jaw, the familiar shape of his lips. And then he’d opened his eyes to look at her too.

‘You found him?’

His eyes were the wrong colour. They were light blue when they should have been dark brown. Then she’d noticed the other inconsistencies. He was too old to be Neal, his hair was clearly tinged with grey, visible even in the dark. His nose was straight where it should have been dented from a past break. His cheekbones were too high.

‘No. It wasn’t him. For a second, a split second, I could have sworn that it was. But it wasn’t him. I didn’t know him. I was disappointed, but I was also…’ She paused again, remembering the skip of her heart as she realised. ‘I was relieved. This man was dying. He couldn’t be saved. I couldn’t have Neal die in front of me. Not for my sake, for Henry’s sake. Any chance of Henry having a father, I want. I would let him back into Henry’s life tomorrow if that meant Henry could have a real father.’

With every word, Emma seemed to be growing more agitated, and Regina more confused. ‘You thought you had found Henry’s father. You hadn’t. I’m still failing to grasp why…’

‘He had a daughter. A six year old daughter. And I am relieved for his death,’ she protested, her speech beginning to slur with both emotion and gin. ‘Every time I close my eyes, I can see his face before I realised he wasn’t Neal, and then I see her face when I feel relief. I feel like I can’t escape it. Over and over and…’

Regina kissed her. She had closed her eyes momentarily, and now felt the pressure of lips against her own. Not hard, but hard enough to silence her. She kept her eyes closed, but all she could focus on the feel of Regina’s lips, soft and gentle. Her mouth opened slightly so Emma could taste the gin on her tongue. A hand snaked into Emma’s hair to pull her closer, but only for a few seconds before the socialite broke away.

She stood and looked down at Emma, her face flushed, and Regina smiled. ‘And now, Miss Swan, you’ll have something else to think about when you close your eyes.’

She took the remainder of the gin from the table with one hand, her bag with the other, and was gone from Emma’s flat before she could find the words to stop her.


	6. Sitting Ducks for Nazi Bombers

**Chapter 6**

**Sitting Ducks for Nazi Bombers**

The park was almost empty. The snow from days before had become ice, and people were doing everything they could to avoid having to leave their homes. _Strange,_ Red thought as she sat waiting on a frost tipped bench, _people will carry on lives as normal during a war, but snow stops the country in its tracks_. She felt it was some sort of statement on the state of Britain, though what exactly she was struggling to work out. Red checked her watch for the third time and breathed onto her hands, before rubbing them quickly. She hadn’t worn gloves. Although, in her defence, she hadn’t been expecting to be waiting for so long.

She was just watching as a heavily pregnant woman made her way across the icy park when a woman sat beside her. Without turning, Red remarked, ‘Bizarre, isn’t it? A park without children.’

‘Oh. Well…yes. I suppose. They are safer evacuated though.’

‘Surprised you haven’t evacuated Henry. The country is much safer than the city. Especially London city.’

Emma Swan sighed, and sat back, ignoring the cold wood against her back. ‘I’d like to see someone try and get him to leave London. He says he’s not going anywhere until he’s 16 years old, and then the only place he’s going is to Berlin itself to fight Hitler.’

‘He’s a brave kid.’

‘He’s a fool.’

‘And whose fault is that?’ Ruby finally turned to look at her colleague, an eyebrow raised. Emma shook her head in response as Red chuckled deeply. ‘Anyway, Swan, why have you asked me to meet you here anyway? And do we have to stay here? It’s so cold I’m worried we’re both going to freeze to this bench and then we’ll be sitting ducks for the next Nazi bombers.’

‘We don’t have to stay here. But we can’t go to mine, Henry’s in and I need to have a conversation he is not allowed to overhear.’

‘Serious, huh?’ Red frowned momentarily. ‘Mine then. I have tea, possibly? If not, we can drink hot water out of unwashed mugs and imagine the mould is an expensive herbal remedy.’

She had tea, thankfully. She even had clean mugs. Both of which Emma was very grateful for. As much as she liked Red, the thought of mouldy water had been nearly enough to send her home. It had only been the nature of the conversation she needed to have that had made her stay.

‘So Swan, this is the first time I have seen you in anything other than a drivers’ uniform. What do you need?’ She was direct. Emma hadn’t even had her first sip of tea yet. She’d been counting on small talk of some nature, just long enough for her to work herself up. ‘You need me, Swan, I’m here, but I’m not pissing around. What do you need?’

Emma paused, pushing her blonde hair from her face nervously, before whispering, ‘I need to speak to you about what you said about Regina.’

‘Ah, jeez, Swan. I said sorry. I’m sorry. There, twice. I can’t help what the other girls say…’

‘No. Not that.’ She paused again, before whispering once more, so softly she was almost inaudible, ‘What if you were right?’

‘About what?’

‘About her being…one of those…’

‘Queer? You think she’s queer? Mrs Regina Fabell, the widow of a once great MP, actually a dyke?’ Red sat back with a peculiar smile on her face as Emma nodded uncomfortably. ‘How’d you know? She recommended some saucy books? She invited you round to meet her ‘elegant and charming’ companions? What?’

‘No. No. Not that.’

‘Then…?’

She looked down at the table, and murmured, ‘she kissed me.’

‘What?’

‘She kissed me,’ Emma repeated, looking up, her face flushed. ‘I’d invited her round, I was sad, she brought gin and then she kissed me.’

‘And then what?’ Red asked, enthralled.

‘She left. She kissed me and left.’

‘She really is. You’ve found yourself a dyke, Miss Swan.’ Red took another sip of her tea to hide the smirk on her face. She couldn’t quite pinpoint the source of her amusement, but the deepening blush across her colleague’s face was certainly a contributing factor. ‘So what did you do then?’

‘What did I…do?’

‘She kissed you, and then left. I presume you asked her to go?’

‘No.’

‘So what did you…?’

‘I kissed her. I kissed her back.’ She looked back down at the table, as if the shame of her confession was too much to bear.

‘Well, shit, Swan. Now you I would never have…’

‘I’m not queer.’ She looked up again suddenly, eyes wide. ‘I’m not a dyke. I’m not queer. I don’t know why… I’m just not like that.’

‘Jeez, Swan, I wasn’t going to…’

‘It was just a shock. I don’t know. It’s wrong. And disgusting. I have a son. When the war ends, I want to find him a father he can look up to. I was just in shock, that’s all.’

‘Swan. Emma. Calm down.’ Red reached across the table to hold Emma’s hand. At the contact, she seemed to stop and calm slightly, her wide eyes softening. With her other hand, Red pushed the mug closer to Emma as if to encourage her to drink. ‘Breathe, Swan. Breathe.’

‘I’m not queer, Red. I don’t know, I just…’

‘Alright. OK. You aren’t queer, Swan. I believe you.’ She smiled, nodding, and Emma gave a little nod in return. ‘So how did you feel?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘When she kissed you, Swan? How’d you feel?’

‘I don’t know. Shocked. Bloody shocked. Like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. I had to sit down when she left, my head was spinning. Even my legs were shaking.’

‘Your head was spinning and your legs were shaking?’ Red raised an eyebrow. ‘Sounds to me, Swan, like you’re sweet on her.’

‘I’m not…You just said…’

‘So you’re sweet on her? Doesn’t mean you’re a dyke, Swan? You met Dotty? I’m wonderfully sweet on her. She is on me. We aren’t dykes.’ Red shrugged, sipping her lukewarm tea.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Before the war, I fooled around with a lovely boy named Jacques. French. So handsome. Now the war’s on, I fool around with Dotty. Equally handsome. Doesn’t make me like Jacques any less. And liking Jacques doesn’t make me like Dotty any less. I can fool around with both. Right now, I’m choosing Dotty. There’s a war, men are hard to come by.’

‘But, it’s unnatural.’

‘Jesus Christ, Swan. What about it? What about me doing what I want is unnatural?’

‘It’s just…’

‘Look, Swan,’ Red said, interrupting her forcefully. ‘I’ll say it again, as it seems to have escaped your notice: we are in the middle of a bloody war. And, in fact, we are more in the middle than most people. At least most people get to hide in bunkers; we have to drive through the streets during air raids. At any moment, we could die. It could be us who the rest of the girls are digging out from under rubble. What will be your dying thought? Because I can tell you for damned sure that it won’t be how grateful you are that you didn’t do anything _unnatural_. It’ll be how much you bloody regret not kissing Regina Mills. You might kiss her again and realise that anything you felt was the result of a long night and too much gin. Or it could be something much much more. But you are never going to know until you try.’

‘And what about what Gold said about her friends? Their games?’

‘Look, Swan, she kissed you. Chances are this is just as new and confusing for her. Gold talks poppycock. Find her. Talk to her. Stop your bloody fussing.’

* * *

 

Regina took a long sip of her cocktail whilst studying her hand. It was poor. Her third poor hand in a row. She’d be naïve to be suspicious; she knew she was being cheated. She swore under her breath.

‘Regina, it’s your move.’

The socialite looked up from her cards at the sound of her name. She was playing in the home of her recent acquaintance and benefactor, Lady Cruella de Vil, who happened to be sat opposite her, blue eyes boring into her. She had not been the one to speak however, that had been the blonde woman sat beside her, whose foot kept trailing slowly up and down Regina’s calf underneath the table. She had been attempting to ignore the sensation for the last two games.

At the expectant looks of her companions, Regina smiled sweetly. ‘I raise you.’

‘You’re wildly optimistic tonight, Regina, considering the losing streak you’re currently on,’ the woman sat the other side of Regina said, taking a long drag on a cigarette. She was not playing cards, her other arm was wrapped around the shoulders of Lady De Vil. ‘Anyone would think you’re in a good mood.’

‘And can I not be?’ Regina asked.

‘Well, it would be a new experience for you, darling. I would be truly flabbergasted if it were true.’ Cruella took the cigarette from her companion and took a drag also, blowing the smoke slowly out across the table. ‘So, what is it, Regina?’

‘And we both know it isn’t Mal.’ At that, the blonde woman stopped caressing Regina with her foot and looked over. ‘Try and be more, subtle, my dear. We could both tell what you were doing.’

‘You’re one to talk about subtlety, Ursula, if you were draped any further across Cruella, she’d have to be wearing you,’ Mal hissed, anger hiding her embarrassment.

‘The difference between us though, Mal, is that at the end of the night, I’ll actually get what I want,’ Ursula drawled slowly in her deep American accent, before smiling victoriously as Mal failed to arrive at a suitable repose.

‘Darling, you don’t need to be so harsh.’ Cruella pouted at the American, before turning back to Mal with a smirk. ‘You’re more than welcome to join us. You did enjoy our company so much before.’ Mal blushed deeply, although whether it was in shame or fury, it was impossible for anyone to tell. At the visible effect of her invitation, the heavily jewelled socialite turned her attention back to Regina. ‘Are you going to share then, or do we need to force it out of you?’

‘I still have no idea…’

‘Who is she, darling?’

Regina paused, closing her mouth that had been open in preparation of denial. In fact, any notion of denial had wiped itself from her mind. ‘No-one. She’s no-one. I don’t under…’

‘You’ve only ever been this optimistic with a woman involved, Regina. You’re hardly a great mystery when it comes to reading you.’ Mal lifted her glass delicately with a gloved hand to take a long sip.

‘And of course we had you followed.’ Ursula shrugged, now resting her head lightly on her lover’s shoulder.

‘You followed me?’

‘Goodness no. The butler followed you. We have far too little time to dedicate to locating your whereabouts.’ Cruella frowned, taking another drag. ‘I have a reputation to uphold here. I couldn’t bear having you ruin it.’ She cocked her head slightly, which with her long, blonde hair gave her an innocent, yet almost creepy look. ‘I’ve heard she is a rather remarkable specimen though, Regina. A great improvement on your last one. Much more handsome, we’ve heard.’

Regina shifted in her seat as her companion spoke, visibly uncomfortable. At the sight, the other three women laughed.

‘We embarrass you, Regina?’ Ursula chuckled, before placing a kiss on Cruella’s bare shoulder. Her eyes however remained wholly focused on the dark haired woman sat beside her.

‘You should never be embarrassed by your desires, Regina. It’s desire alone that separates us from others. We’re only superior because of our desires.’ Cruella was speaking with her eyes closed, Ursula kissing further and further across her shoulder and up her neck. Regina looked down, averting her eyes from the slowly intensifying moment before her. She missed Cruella reaching a hand to cup Mal’s face and pull her closer, before whispering into her ear. When Regina looked back, all three women were standing up, their card hands and half-empty glasses left on the table.

‘We’re retiring now, it is so awfully late.’ Mal smirked, taking one last long sip of drink before following Cruella and Ursula to the door of the drawing room. As she reached it, she turned back momentarily. ‘Oh, and you should bring your handsome new friend to visit, Regina. I’m sure we’d all adore to meet her.’


	7. Overstepping a Mark

**Chapter 7**

**Overstepping a Mark**

The dawn was just breaking as the ambulances rolled back into the station. The snow had become ice on the road, and the drivers could not risk their vehicles reaching anything over a snail’s pace, even in an emergency. It had made for a long and difficult night’s work. The ambulances parked alongside each other and the women climbed out, too exhausted to even make eye contact or force any sort of emotion on their pale, chapped lips. But still, without communicating, they knew what each other was thinking: bed, tea, warmth.

‘Swan. You know damn well you cannot have visitors here, Swan.’ From the stairs to the office, Granny stormed, her face stern. ‘I don’t care who they are, I don’t want them here.’

‘I don’t understand…’

‘Your newest friend, Ms Mills, she decided to pay you a visit whilst you were out. Expecting a quiet night, were you? Thought you’d need some company to stave off the boredom?’

‘No…’ Swan shook her head, too tired, too cold to quite understand what Granny was saying to her.

‘Then explain why I had some woman sat waiting in my office for an hour, expecting your presence.’

‘Bloody Hell, Granny, back off.’ Red interrupted. ‘Does Swan look like she was expecting company? She’s beat.’

‘Really Red? Explain to me then why I had to deal with her latest companion tonight then, expecting me to pull Swan back just to see her.’

‘Mills is just a rich broad, she’s used to getting what she wants.’ Red shrugged. ‘No doubt she thought she could just waltz in here and ask for anything. Didn’t tell Swan. Didn’t count on someone like you, neither. Can’t blame anyone but her for that.’

She watched as Granny softened as she spoke. By the time Red had finished, Granny had calmed down. ‘You didn’t invite her? You know it’s against regulation?’

‘No. I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let anything interfere with the job,’ Emma answered solemnly, too tired to even be angry at the accusations.

‘Good. Well, she left after an hour. Left you this.’ Granny fished in the pocket of her uniform and brought out a delicately folded slip of paper, which she handed to the blonde driver. ‘Next time you see her, tell her to stay away. I don’t like the look of her.’

* * *

 

Emma resisted the pleas of her colleagues to read the letter with them, and waited until she was home, a mug of steaming tea clutched in her hands to finally unfold the paper and read the elegant, cursive script.

_Miss Swan,_

_I had hoped to see you before now. Forgive me for intruding on your work, but I couldn’t wait much longer for you. You haven’t called. You haven’t answered my calls. I feel I may have overstepped a mark._

_Reassure me. Meet me later. I’ll send a car for you._

_Regina Mills_

It was far shorter than she’d expected. Although, rereading it, Emma wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Perhaps any length would have been too short. It said what it needed to. And more. _She wanted to meet_. The idea made Emma’s heart jump. _Fear? Nerves?_ Did she want to go? She wasn’t even sure. Her eyes flicked down to the letter again.

_I feel I may have overstepped a mark._

_Reassure me._

Emma put down her tea and went to find a suitable dress.

* * *

 

Regina Mills was stood patiently outside a rundown building when the snow started to fall once more. She wrinkled her nose in irritation and pulled the furs around her shoulders closer, peering down the street. She could feel her impatience growing, increasing with the fall of every snowflake. When she finally spotted the car driving towards her, she couldn’t help but smile in a moment of pure gratitude.

* * *

 

 _She was smiling. Regina was smiling_. Emma was not quite sure she’d seen such an expression on her acquaintance’s face before. She’d seen her smirk, she’d seen her laugh, but she’d never seen such a moment of simple happiness. The sight of it caused her to sigh, the tension in her stomach easing, her heartbeat slowing. When she climbed out of the car to meet her, she had a smile of her own to match.

‘Ms Mills,’ Swan said before Regina held up a finger to stop her.

‘Talking inside, Miss Swan, it’s far too cold out here.’ She pushed open the paint streaked door behind her and gestured for Emma to enter. She did, casting a confused glance as she stepped into a plain bricked corridor leading down to a rusting metal staircase.

‘What is…?’

‘You’ll see.’

Emma led the way down the stairs hesitantly, worried about slipping on ice, the corridor being so cold. At the bottom of the staircase was another door, this one polished and heavy. At a nod from her companion, she opened this door to be met with a sight she had not quite expected.

What she felt had probably once been a cellar had been converted into an underground restaurant, lit only by the candlelight on individual tables and one golden chandelier. The brick walls were gone, and instead there was a deep red wallpaper and carpet, making the room feel warmer without even stepping inside. Each table was separated by a distance, as if to ensure that guests could not overhear one another, and could dine in complete privacy. There was a soft lull of music and, in a corner, Emma could faintly make out a piano, although even the light there was subtle. This was a restaurant made for secrecy, for the illicit affairs of politicians and their socialite mistresses. Whilst the rest of the city slept, living in fear of the air raid sirens, the rich dined and danced in almost complete anonymity.

‘What is this?’ Emma stood, staring, not quite sure if she’d ever been anywhere so extravagant in her life.

‘It doesn’t have a name. But it’s expensive, and highly exclusive. Oh, and also incredibly private,’ Regina said, glancing around before clicking her fingers to summon a waiter. He appeared to recognise her and immediately led the women to their table. It was near one of the corners, and Regina nodded when it was shown to her, as if she had requested a table far away from anyone else in the room. He pulled out both women’s chairs and they sat down whilst the waiter continued to stand beside their table. Emma sat, waiting in confusion at his continued presence, when Regina said, ‘two menus and a bottle of champagne, I think.’

‘Certainly, madam.’ He bowed and began to back away from the table.

‘Not champagne. I think I want a clear head tonight.’ Emma interrupted, stopping the waiter in his step. Across the table from her, Regina rolled her eyes.

‘A bottle of champagne, and a virgin _something_ ,’ she ordered and the waiter bowed once more before departing, Regina’s dark eyes following him to the kitchen. At the close of the door, she looked back at the blonde driver across the table from her. ‘You should take advantage. There are very few places you can get a bottle of champagne from in the middle of a war. They hardly provide ration slips for them.’

‘Why can you get them here?’

‘A little thing called the black market, Miss Swan.’ Regina smiled, though this one was clearly faked, as the waiter returned with drinks. He popped the cork quickly, and poured two glasses. He handed one to Emma before she had time to refuse. ‘You may as well take a sip.’

She had never tried champagne before. She thought she had a distant memory, but the taste was like nothing she was used to. Sharp and bitter, the bubbles in her throat made her cough, which caused her companion to chuckle lowly.

‘Appreciate it, Miss Swan. That glass probably costs more than your entire get-up right now.’

‘How generous of you to remind me.’ She’d felt it as they’d found their table; a sudden awareness of just how drab she looked. She’d found her best dress, but now she pulled awkwardly at it whilst facing Regina, whose furs were still draped around her pale shoulders. She was cripplingly aware of the hems that didn’t match, one side beginning to fray, of the collar that was slightly off colour, of the pin at the back of her waist. She felt herself blush.

‘And now I’ve embarrassed you.’ Regina nodded, placing her glass down and reaching confidently for Emma’s hand across the table. ‘I apologise.’

At the touch of Regina’s hand on her own, Emma pulled her hand back under the table, shaking her head. ‘I don’t think…Not here…’

‘My dear, discretion is part of the price here.’ Regina raised an eyebrow quizzically. ‘Unless that’s not your concern? I haven’t heard from you in two weeks, not since…well, not since the last time I saw you. Why?’

‘Not here.’

‘Why did you come if you don’t wish to talk? What were you expecting?’

Emma paused, her gaze directed at her lap, before looking up at Regina with a shrug. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know what?’

‘I don’t know why I’m here.’

‘Is that all?’

‘No. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know why I haven’t been able to answer your calls. I don’t even know how I feel. Is that clear enough for you?’ She shook her head in exasperation before taking a long sip of champagne. _Damn the clear head_. When she put the glass down again, her eyes were hard. ‘I have no bloody clue what is happening right now. I had no clue what was happening before that night, but especially not after. Do you do that often? Is it a habit of yours to go round…’ She glanced around, before lowering her voice to a hiss. ‘ _Kissing_ women? That something you enjoy? Ply them with liquor and make a fool out of them? Because I’m not going to be made a fool out of.’

‘And I’m not going to sit here and be so insulted. What do you think I am? How cruel do you imagine me to be?’ Regina pulled her hand back from the table in anger. _Not quite the reaction expected_ , Emma realised. ‘Do you think this is a game to me? Or in your mind am I no better than some of the creeps you read about? In which case, why are you here?’ She waited for an answer, but the blonde woman just sat silently, her face blank. The socialite pulled her furs around her and stood up. ‘I see. Just thought you’d try it out, but you don’t even have the courage to say anything. Thank you for everything, Miss Swan.’

She began to walk away from the table.

‘Wait.’ Emma stood, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards her, kissing her softly. In a moment, she forgot where they were, or what she was wearing, her focus was on the feel of Regina’s kips against her own, the silk of her gloved hand.

Regina broke the kiss. Emma expected to break apart to see the whole restaurant staring, but there was nobody around still. The distant tables and small candles did their jobs, discretion really was part of the service.

‘That was a very quick change of heart.’ The dark haired woman’s voice was gentler though, her words not intended to hurt. She sat back down in the seat opposite the blonde woman.

‘That’s what I wanted to do when I saw you earlier. That’s what I’ve wanted to do since I saw you last. I just couldn’t quite let myself believe it,’ Emma explained. ‘I haven’t felt anything for anyone since Henry’s father. I haven’t even kissed anyone since Henry’s father. For you to be the first person since him…I chickened out. For eleven years, my main concern has been Henry. I haven’t let myself be close to anyone, because I can’t risk them leaving. It wouldn’t be fair on him to lose two fathers.’

‘I’m not asking to be Henry’s father.’

‘I can’t have anything less,’ she said, a grim determination on her face. ‘Every time the phone rang these last two weeks, that’s what stopped me from answering. I can’t repeat what happened before. The last time I let someone into my life without considering the consequences, I ended up with Henry. I’m not ungrateful, but I can’t risk that happening again.’

‘Miss Swan, listen to yourself, and then look at me.’ Regina placed a finger under Emma’s chin and tilted her head up. ‘I can guarantee very little, but I can certainly guarantee that I will not be making you a mother in the near future.’ She watched as Emma’s face reddened in realisation, and she chuckled once more.

‘What do you want, Miss Mills? What are your intentions here?’

‘Do you mean tonight?’

‘I mean for me.’

‘I have no intentions for you, Emma Swan, beyond that with which you are comfortable. I have shown you, I believe, what I think of you. Are you comfortable with that?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’ve mentioned very little about your previous concern with _kissing women_?’

‘We are living in a war, I plan to do exactly what I want,’ Emma responded, before raising an eyebrow. ‘That is providing I am the only woman you’ll be kissing.’

‘I can imagine kissing nobody but you, Miss Swan.’

* * *

 

Emma thought about that line as she lay back on her bed that night, the pressure of the socialite’s body against her own. She thought about the dark lipped smirk on her face, as Regina planted hard kisses along her neck. The candlelight that illuminated her face filled Swan’s mind as she felt the other woman’s tongue flick across her hardened nipples before venturing further down her body, and causing her to gasp, wide-eyed, in pleasure.


	8. Little Family Resemblance

**Chapter 8**

**Little Family Resemblance**

It had been a month. A month since Emma’s first champagne hangover, which she awoke to alone, having found Regina already dressed and gone, a few dark hairs on side of the bed the only sign she had ever been there. That and Emma’s memories of the night before. One month, yet she found very little changed. She knew nothing more of Regina Mills than she did after their first few conversations.

Emma stopped as she thought that, pausing as she laced her boots for another night of work. December had passed in London with little merriment or celebration. The bombs had continued to fall, buildings continued to collapse, and people still lost their lives regardless of any holiday. But now it was January, and the colder nights put greater strain on the ambulance service. The Nazis were an almost secondary problem when compared to the freezing temperatures, and the people still out on the streets. The cold nights affected the women too however which, admittedly, was what they cared about more. The ambulances were poorly insulated, they could not wear too many heavy items of clothing due to needing to move quickly, and long nights outside when to more grumbling and complaining than any previous shifts had.

She knew there though, she was luckier than most. After a night in the cold, trudging through grey sludge, the remnants of the December snow, one phone call would bring Regina to her door. One step further would bring Regina to her bed, the socialite’s naked body against her own, warming every single inch of her bare skin. In that respect, Emma thought, there had been a change in the last month. She did know more. She knew what Regina wanted from her, whether it be soft kisses placed along her chin, or dark scratches left down her back. She could read Regina’s body; she knew when she needed to be harder, or gentler, faster, or slower. She had learnt how to tease, watching as Regina’s dark eyes widened in silent pleading for release. Emma had listened to her lover purr, catlike, in satisfaction. Indeed, maybe a lot had changed in the last month. But still, she needed more.

She said this to her as Regina walked through the door early the next morning, after Emma’s shift had ended. The blonde driver stood some distance away as she spoke, knowing that to step any closer would be to lose her resolve. As she finished speaking, she watched an amused smirk cross the socialite’s carefully painted face.

‘You don’t know me, Miss Swan? You don’t understand me? Is that your concern?’ She raised an eyebrow as she closed the door behind her and began removing her red gloves. ‘You know me far better than anyone, surely? We could have conversation after conversation but it would never result in the… _intimacy_ we have.’

‘You know that is not what I mean.’

‘Then what do you mean?’ Regina asked, clearly unimpressed with the change in routine. And, with each moment she spent unimpressed, she felt her temper fraying. ‘What do you want, Miss Swan? Do you want to know my favourite colour? Maybe the name of my first pet as a child? How about what my day was like yesterday? Do you honestly care about something as trivial as that?’

‘Yes. Yes, I do care about that. Yes, I would like to know what your day was like.’

 The look on Regina’s face showed clearly that she had not expected such a response from Emma. She’d expected her to back down, return to exactly what Regina had expected when she had first knocked on the door. In her shock, she found herself bringing out an envelope from her pocket and tossing it to her companion. ‘Very well. Here’s my day yesterday for you. I’ll save you the effort of having to read the contents: my sister’s coming home.’

‘Your sister?’ Emma asked, her brow knitted in confusion. ‘You haven’t ever mentioned…’

‘No. She’s been away for a while. She’s arriving home the day after tomorrow. There you go; that was my day. Are you any more satisfied?’ She asked it dismissively, shrugging off her coat and placing it on the back of a chair. ‘Do you _know_ me better now, Miss Swan?’

‘What’s she like?’ Emma asked, sitting down opposite the chair Regina had taken.

‘Who?’

‘Your sister. Where’s she been? Why is coming home so suddenly?’ Swan asked in a barrage of questions, each one resulting in a quick flicker of surprise across the socialite’s face.

She frowned. ‘You actually care?’

‘No, I thought I would just ask you for fun.’ It was Emma’s turn to raise an eyebrow mockingly, before reaching across the table to take Regina’s hand. ‘Yes, I care. I want to know you, believe it or not. And that includes, or at least I presume, knowing roughly who your family is. Even if that’s only by reputation.’

Regina sat for a moment or so in silence, her eyes flicking between the women’s linked hands resting on the table, and Swan’s sincere gaze. She shook her head. ‘You really want to know? Come with me to meet her. De Vil’s driver is driving me, I will arrange for him to stop here for you. Meet her yourself.’

‘Seriously?’

‘You care that much, Swan? Prove it.’

* * *

 

Emma replayed the conversation as she stood alongside Regina on an air field outside of London, waiting for a newly landed plane to open and allow passengers to descend the steps. Neither woman was speaking; Emma was carefully watching Regina, who in turn was carefully watching the plane as its few passengers began to exit. She saw no change on the socialite’s face until a red haired woman disembarked, glancing around before spotting Regina and waving, at which point Regina took a deep breath. Such a reaction to the sight of her relative did little to lift Emma’s spirits, low already from the cutting wind and the deafening silence all morning. Her sister had begun to make her way towards the edge of the airfield, and Emma watched Regina’s careful gaze and her face, which remained completely still with each of her sister’s approaching footsteps.

‘Darling, I just cannot quite believe it.’ Her sister smiled as she reached the women, placing the bag in her hand on the grass. ‘It’s been, what? Three years?’

‘Try five,’ Regina replied, her voice cold, before she smiled and stepped forwards to embrace her sister closely. They had only been together seconds however before Regina pulled away with a frown. ‘What is…?’

‘Oh, did I forget to write?’ Her sister pulled open her coat to reveal a proudly curving stomach. ‘I’m expecting, dear sister.’

* * *

 

The journey from the air field was silent, aside from Zelena, which Swan learnt was the sister’s name, insistence that the women go somewhere for food, citing her pregnant state as the reason. Emma noticed that Regina said very little, even once the three women were sat inside, the same restaurant Regina had taken her to only weeks before, and had failed as of yet to introduce the blonde to her sister.

Zelena hadn’t failed to notice this. ‘I’m watching you, blonde.’ She tilted her head as she spoke, looking directly at Emma, before extending a hand across the table. ‘My sister’s being dreadful as usual and has failed to introduce you.  My name is Zelena Mills.’ She raised an eyebrow, an indication she clearly wanted a response. Emma reached across to shake hands.

‘Emma Swan.’ She nodded, before pausing. ‘Why are you watching me?’

‘You’re wondering, aren’t you? Trying to spot the similarities?’ Zelena smirked, and saw as Emma blushed slightly at being caught. ‘You can’t quite see the family resemblance, can you?’

‘I am struggling.’

Indeed, to Emma, there seemed very little family resemblance to see. Where Regina was dark, Zelena was light. She had long red hair, which she wore loose. She had light features; pale eyes and light eyelashes. Unlike her sister, she was quick to smile, noticeable even in the short space of time Emma had known her. Her face was clear, no make-up used to highlight or conceal. The only familial connection she could spot between the two sisters was the glitter in their eyes, and the slight chill they both seemed to give her.

‘There is a very simple reason for that.’ Regina raised an eyebrow, before taking a small sip of the steaming mug before her. For Zelena’s sake, they had all chosen tea rather than anything alcoholic. At Emma’s insistent silence, the socialite continued. ‘We’re hardly sisters. Same mothers, separate fathers.’

‘Regina got the father and the position of adored daughter. I got to be the constant reminder to mother that she’s a whore.’ Zelena smiled, antithetical to her blunt speech. ‘Even mother isn’t sure who my father is, which I feel says rather more about her than it does me. Speaking of,’ she said, turning to her sister. ‘Did you tell mother darling about my return?’

‘I’d rather die.’ Regina returned the smile. ‘If you haven’t informed her, she remains unknowing.’

‘A relief,’ Zelena said gladly. ‘Have you met our mother, Swan? She’s marvellous.’

‘No, I haven’t.’ Emma paused. ‘I haven’t known Regina all too long.’

‘Oh, of course. How do you know each other, may I ask? My sister has many very good friends, but I have never before had her mention your name.’

Emma wasn’t quite sure how she should be responding, unable to fully read the undertones of Zelena’s speech, and was grateful when Regina answered instead. ‘Miss Swan was one of the ambulance drivers who assisted me when my house was bombed.’

‘Oh yes, I heard about that. And your husband of course. I’m so sorry about all that. We liked him, didn’t we?’ At Emma’s frown, Zelena elaborated further. ‘My sister has had some unusual suitors, to say the least.’

‘Mother liked him.’ Regina interrupted coldly. ‘She did at first, anyway. How did you hear about that, if you have had no contact with mother?’

‘News travels.’

‘Where have you been?’ Swan asked, her curiosity breaking the sisters’ conversation. The both turned their heads to look at her. ‘I thought air travel had been banned during the war, except for important flights.’

‘I have some important friends,’ Zelena replied. ‘And they owed me rather a great deal. Not to mention this.’ She rubbed her stomach pointedly as she spoke. ‘We decided it was rather important I come home.’

‘From where?’

She tilted her head once more. ‘Oh, I’ve been…’

‘America. My sister’s been in America.’ Regina smiled swiftly, before glancing over at the red-haired woman.

‘Naturally.’ She met her sister’s glance with a small nod, missed by the blonde. ‘And then all that nonsense with the Japs at the Harbour. Home really was the best option.’

‘You are aware there’s a war in Europe then?’

‘But the Yanks really are prone to exaggerating everything. It’s a shame really, they are truly lovely otherwise.’ She shrugged, taking her mug in her hand. ‘And you can always count on the English, so dependable.’

All three women sat in silence for a minute or two, each taking a slow sip from their drinks, which were cooling more rapidly by the second. Regina interrupted the moment. ‘How far are you?

‘Far?’ Zelena asked innocently, feigning ignorance, if only just to provoke something from her sister. She watched with amusement at Regina’s brief scowl.

‘When is the baby due?’

‘Three months?’

‘You mentioned that ‘we’ decided it was better for you to return, I’m presuming that was you and the father? If there’s a father in the picture?’

‘Yes, _we_ decided.’

‘Still, continuing the legacy. No husband.’

‘You remain the intelligent one, dear sister,’ Zelena purred. ‘No husband. But no legacy involved. I know who the father is.’

‘How reassuring.’

‘You can say that all you like. At least he’s still breathing.’

The sisters seemed to have forgotten about the blonde woman’s presence by this point, their conversation falling into the pattern Emma suspected many of their conversations did. Short, sniping remarks back and forth across the table, each providing some additional information to the other about their lives since their last meeting, although only if the other was listening enough to notice. It was at this point, she decided to excuse herself, the sole purpose for her visit having been accomplished. Both women shrugged off her attempts to offer money, Regina gave her a swift nod as she left which Emma could only presume to mean more than it felt to her, and she turned to leave. The sisters watched her exit the restaurant with careful gazes before Zelena turned back to meet her sister’s eyes.

‘You’ve told her nothing, have you, my dear?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘These things are hardly topics that appear in ordinary conversation.’

‘She’ll find out. However hard you try, my sweet sister, she’s going to find out.’


	9. Dreary for a Homecoming

**Chapter 9**

**Dreary for a Homecoming**

Barely a week after her sister had arrived in London, Regina was wishing for her departure once again. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her, of course she loved her. It would be hard not to; she seemed to be charming the whole of wartime London. In the last few days, she had managed to get hold of more illicit items than even Regina had managed in the past few months. And Cruella, who had accepted Zelena as a guest solely for her relationship to Regina, now declared herself half in love with her, regardless of her swelling stomach, to the envy of the American Ursula.

And now, naturally, Regina was dressing for a party her sister had organised in the space of three days. A homecoming, she had phrased it, to celebrate her return.

‘Anything to cheer up this miserable city,’ Zelena sat forward as far as possible, given her pregnant state, and took a drag from the cigarette in her hand. ‘You have to admit that it is awfully gloomy here.’

‘There is a war. You, of all people, should be able to remember that.’ Regina turned away from the mirror, glancing over her shoulder as she zipped up her dress, before turning to her sister. ‘Any thoughts?’

‘Well, for a homecoming celebration, you could have gone for a slightly less dreary colour, dear.’ She took another drag before smiling. ‘But you know very well how you look. And no doubt someone will be able to refresh your memory later.’

‘No doubt one of Cruella’s awful friends.’ Regina rolled her eyes, turning back to the mirror for another inspection. The light did absolutely no favours for the…

‘Or one of your own?’ Zelena smirked. ‘Did I mention I invited your blonde, Regina?’

Regina stopped, and twisted angrily to face her sister. ‘You’ve invited whom, Zelena?’

‘The blonde, Emma Swan. The darling ambulance driver.’ At Regina’s continuing anger, Zelena dropped her smirk. ‘You didn’t consider this, Regina? What are you so angry about, sister? You like her; you have the evening with her. I’m hardly going to say anything about…’

‘This is just you, Zelena,’ Regina interrupted, her voice low but dripping with unadulterated fury. ‘You’re back for less than a week, after five whole years, and you have already made efforts to interfere with my life. You say you’re nothing like mother, but you are exactly like her, in all the possible worst ways. No consideration. No thought. Not even respect for me to pretend you want to benefit my life, rather than make decisions just for your own amusement. You are exactly like mother.’

Zelena sat for a moment before slowly standing and approaching her sister. She tilted her head and said coolly, ‘Well, I’m not alone. You have mother’s ingratitude.’

She left Regina alone to seethe in her room.

* * *

 

Emma Swan sat, silently, in a large leather armchair at the side of the large drawing room, watching as bodies flitted continuously in front of her, yet their eyes seemed to glance over her as if she had melded with the chair. She’d been at the party for over two hours, yet not a word had been spoken to her after Regina’s brief welcome, not even an acknowledgement of her presence after Regina seemed to thrust a glass of red wine into her hand before returning to the busiest room in the immense townhouse. Since, despite Emma’s continuous attention on the card game Regina had been so desperate not to miss, she had not looked over at her once. In her hand, the red wine remained untouched.

‘Miss Swan, am I right?’ A voice suddenly called Emma’s attention from the card game still happening, to focus instead on the red haired woman who had sat beside her.

‘Miss Mills.’

‘Zelena. Miss Mills sounds both incredibly old and immensely dull. Like some queer spinster.’ Zelena yawned, before gesturing to Emma’s glass. ‘Are you drinking that?’ At the shake of Emma’s head, Zelena took the glass and drank it in its entirety, before smiling contently. ‘Much better. You should never let wine go unfinished, especially not in wartime. It’s incredibly unthoughtful.’

‘Should you be…?’ She glanced down at Zelena’s stomach, and was met with an amused chuckle.

‘A few glasses can hardly hurt. Not this one, at least.’ The two women fell silent for a few minutes, Emma’s eyes immediately drawn again to the crowded table. Her thoughts were interrupted once more. ‘I couldn’t help but watch you tonight, Emma. You hardly seem to be enjoying yourself.’

‘I’m fine.’ She shook her head, a forced smile partially on her lips.

‘You lie perhaps as well as you drink.’

‘This party isn’t quite what I expected.’

‘Well, of course.’ Zelena shrugged. ‘I told Regina that when she insisted upon inviting you. I told her that, even after our first meeting, you hardly looked the sort to fit in here. But you know my sister; she can be so strange sometimes. She said there were people here she wanted you to meet. Though, looking around, I can’t imagine who.’

There was a sudden cheer at the table, and Emma watched as a blonde woman stood up in triumph, clearly drunk from the volume of her laughter, and she placed a hard kiss on the lips of a dark skinned woman beside her. When they broke apart, red lipstick was unashamedly smudged on the faces of both women. Emma watched with both disgust, and burning envy.

‘Lady Cruella de Vil and her lover, Ursula.’ Zelena leaned over to whisper to Emma. ‘De Vil is our host, of course. Official host, this is her house. One of them. Ursula is an American jazz singer, the best in the country supposedly. Rumour is anytime a rival gets too close to her title, they encounter a little accident. Last one supposedly fell out of a window onto a gate, spike right through the neck.’ She smirked as Emma gave a small shudder. ‘The two are inseparable, although they are perfectly happy to share.’

The blonde turned to the Mills sister, eyes wide. ‘Share?’

Zelena sat back, a cool smile on her face. ‘I told Regina, these aren’t your people. Regina’s friends are all so…queer.’

Emma blushed strongly at Zelena’s words, her face turning a deep red. Why, she was not sure. Perhaps because it was true. Over the evening, she had noticed something similar. A large number of guests had their arms about each other’s shoulders, their hands in each other’s arms; they leant closely to whisper into the other’s ear, close enough for lips to almost brush the other’s skin. It had caused the bitter compound of disgust and envy to churn in her stomach every time. At the thought of the envy each encounter inspired, her cheeks burned more fiercely.

The socialite noticed the burning colour on Emma’s cheeks and, misunderstanding, said, ‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m very partial to it all. And, of course, you are very partial to my sister.’ At the quick glance from her companion, she chuckled. ‘I’m not stupid, my dear. I know my sister very well. She does not ask just anyone to accompany her when it comes to family matters. I have no complaint there. But some of these women are so…blatant about it. So crass. Take Mal, for instance.’ She pointed to a blonde woman sat beside Regina, dressed in a man’s suit that had been tailored to her figure. ‘I have never understood what my sister could see in her.’

Emma followed Zelena’s gaze to look at Mal, who had leaned over to Regina, momentarily catching Emma’s eye. Her own narrowed, and a smirk passed her painted lips. Emma looked away quickly. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You know Mal, surely? My sister must have mentioned Mal. She’s the only person here I can assume she’d want you to meet, although if I was her, I’d keep you two separated at all costs.’

‘She hasn’t mentioned her.’

Zelena paused, as if thinking, before shrugging. ‘Then I probably shouldn’t tell you.’ She continued to look away from Emma for a few moments, before turning back to see the pleading look in her eyes. ‘I really shouldn’t. Regina would be so mad.’

‘You can’t mention so much and then refuse to talk,’ Emma commented, before asking softly, ‘please?’

She sighed, as if parting with such information was a reluctance. ‘Mal is Regina’s oldest friend. Her closest and most intimate friend, also.’ Zelena raised an eyebrow at the last few words, but was met by a blank look from her companion, which caused her to sigh again. ‘Mal is Regina’s lover. Was her lover. It’s hard to tell. Mal’s always been sweet on my sister, but the feelings have never been quite so strongly returned. A dalliance here and there, when she’s been bored…’

‘Still?’

‘It’s hard to tell,’ Zelena replied, her voice deceptively gentle. ‘Certainly whilst my brother in law was alive. I suppose all I can say is there have been a lot of parties, and a lot of women, but Mal has always been the one at my sister’s side.’

Regina turned her head away from Mal’s drunken attempts at conversation to watch Emma storm out of the room. Zelena remained sat down, a Cheshire cat smirk on her pale face. Regina stood quickly, causing Mal to lurch forward without Regina’s shoulder to lean on, and spill her drink on the cards table. A collective groan rose up from the rest of the guests, ignored by the brunette socialite as she approached her sister angrily.

‘What did you say, Zelena? What have you done?’ She asked with a snarl, infuriated further by the satisfied look on her sister’s face.

‘I simply paid her the attention you weren’t,’ Zelena answered. ‘And don’t worry, I explained to her why you were so distracted tonight.’

‘You’re a bloody…’ She didn’t finish her sentence, her anger being replaced by a growing need to find the ambulance driver, to counter anything her sister may have done. With a backwards scowl at the red-haired socialite, she stormed from the room.

* * *

 

Emma Swan had never been in a bedroom as finely furnished as the one she was stood in. However, she did not know this, or even notice such decoration. Her every thought was occupied by the conversation she had just had, and by the foul combination of anger and betrayal and confusion that bubbled within her. Out of pure fury she pulled off her shoes, the only heeled pumps she owned, and threw them into the corner of the room, before sitting heavily on the bed. Within seconds, she heard the doorknob twist and she stood defensively.

‘Miss Swan?’

Regina Mills entered the room slowly, aware of the pained wrath on Emma’s face. Emma stared at her silently with cold eyes. She was glad she had not cried.

‘I don’t know what my sister has said to you…’

‘Why am I here? Why did you bother to bloody invite me if you planned to ignore me all evening?’ Emma asked. ‘I’m too busy with this. I’m just going to go. Return to your ridiculous card game and Mal, who you’re so chummy with, I’ll leave you to it.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Ridiculous? I think being ridiculous is inviting someone to a party and then spending the entire night avoiding being anywhere near them.’

‘Now you’re exaggerating.’

‘Now I’m going.’

She tried to leave the room, but Regina grabbed her hand. ‘Emma.’

‘Miss Swan is fine.’ The blonde pulled her hand back and turned to leave again.

‘You aren’t wearing any shoes, Miss Swan.’ _Damn_. Emma stopped and looked back around. Regina gestured to Emma’s feet, clad only in stockings. ‘Whatever you may have heard, sit down and I’ll find your shoes. I’m sure you can bear my company for a few moments longer.’

Reluctantly, Emma returned and sat down on the bed. She pointed silently to where the shoes had landed, and Regina retrieved them from the corner and knelt down at her feet. There was a few moment’s silence before Regina asked, ‘What did my sister say to you, Miss Swan?’

‘The truth.’

‘That’s a very vague answer. You may need to be more specific. What truth?’

‘I know all about Mal. How sweet you are on each other. How intimately a companion she is for you. Everything you kept from me.’ Emma looked down to meet her companion’s dark eyes with a flushed anger.

She considered lying. The thought burned across the socialite’s mind, white hot instinct perfected over years of practice. She fought it. ‘My sister was correct then. Mal is a very intimate companion of mine. She has been for years. And, as of the time I met you, she remained so. She is not any longer.’

‘And you ask me to believe that? After the way you were tonight? You had eyes for nobody else.’

‘What do you want, Miss Swan? Do you want to be like Lady De Vil? Making a show of everything in front of everyone? I saw you shudder at the sight of her earlier, though you didn’t notice me. You find all of this disgusting.’

‘I don’t find this…’ She remembered the feeling in her stomach at the sight of Ursula and De Vil. The repulsion that rippled across her skin. But she remembered also, light fingers across her stomach, soft kisses across her chest. ‘I don’t find you…I don’t find what we do…’

‘I never suggested that, Miss Swan.’ Regina’s hands moved slowly up and down Emma’s calf, gently squeezing. ‘I know how you feel.’

The feeling of her hands on her calf seemed enough to melt Emma’s anger, to cause her eyes to close as her body relaxed. She asked still, ‘then why?’

‘I didn’t invite you tonight. Zelena did. It’s a game she plays, interfering in my life. I let my anger with her stop me approaching you. I let my worry about making you too uncomfortable prevent me from making you in any way comfortable.’ She moved her hands further up Emma’s leg. ‘I can only apologise, and ask you to forgive me.’

‘And Mal?’

‘Unimportant.’

Regina began to gently kiss her way slowly up Emma’s leg, as her hands moved higher still, to find the top of her stocking. She pulled it down gently, and then kissed further and further up Emma’s now bare leg. As she reached her thigh, she knelt up fully to look up at Emma, before pushing her back so she was lying on the bed. As her kisses became harder against the driver’s skin, her hands moved to push Emma’s dress up, until it was bunched around her hips. Emma’s mind went blank as she felt lips moving further up her thigh. When she felt fingers starting to pull at her panties, she closed her eyes with a smile.


	10. Old Enough to Know Everything

**Chapter 10**

**Old Enough to Know Everything**

Winter sunlight poured through the window, illuminating everything it touched with a golden hue. Emma knew that if she stood on the box in the corner and stared out of the window, the whole of London would be gilded in the same light. The sky would glitter on the Thames; the usual murkiness would instead reflect an array of peaches and deep oranges. The light would chase the shadows from the streets if she watched long enough; until the only silhouettes were of those whose routine demanded their early morning starts. Even the empty buildings, the burnt out shells of the war, would be lit with a glow that brought martyrdom, not victimhood. In short, London would be beautiful, a rare sight indeed. And yet, knowing all of this, Emma could still not bear the thought of leaving her bed, of tearing her eyes away from the woman whose skin was also illuminated and seemed more precious to her touch.

‘You’re smiling like a fool, Miss Swan. What are you thinking about?’ The dark haired woman who lay facing Emma said, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

‘Just about how beautiful London looks this morning.’

‘Then you must have the best vision in the World. Why you are only an ambulance driver is beyond me. Why, if you can see London from here, think of the good you could do in the war effort.’

Emma leant up on her elbow to look down at her companion. ‘And with wit so quick, think how you could be amusing our men on the frontline. No.’ She reached out to run her fingers softly down Regina’s cheek. ‘I can see all I want of London right here. And I promise, it is exceptionally beautiful this morning.’

‘You’re a bloody sap, Swan.’ She rolled her eyes, but only in jest, before pulling Emma closer to kiss her. ‘But I hope you aren’t expecting anything as ridiculously corny from me. I shouldn’t even be here.’

‘Says who?’ Emma whispered, her lips almost brushing Regina’s.

‘You know who, Miss Swan.’

‘Then ignore them.’

‘And you know I can’t keep doing that.’ She smiled, as Emma kissed her again. ‘Unless you want to see me on the streets of London or worse, having to return home to mother.’

‘You could stay here.’

At that, Regina broke away with a laugh. ‘With your schedule? Please tell me you’re kidding. Never mind the fact I have a heavily pregnant sister currently staying with three women whom, as much as I like, I do not trust the care of an infant with. And you have a son too, who explaining quite why we only require one bed between us to may be difficult. Charming suggestion, Miss Swan, but it will have to be a pass.’

She turned away from Emma with an amused chuckle, either missing or ignoring the slightly hurt expression on her companion’s face, and began to dress herself.

And then it hit.

The sound and light were almost simultaneous. A loud explosion, and the light from the window became momentarily brighter. The sound, so loud, shook the building causing a glass to fall and smash, water spilling on the floor. The screaming started almost immediately, the sound piercing even through the walls of the flat.

‘We’ve been hit.’ Emma stumbled to her feet, frantically pulling on clothes. ‘I need to get Henry. I need to…’

‘No.’ Regina held up a finger to silence her. ‘It’s outside.’

‘You don’t know that. You don’t…’

‘Oh, Miss Swan, I think I do.’ She turned to look at her companion who blushed deeply. The shaking ad subsided, there was no smoke, no heat, nothing to suggest a bombing in the building. Her mind cast instantly back to their first meeting, the socialite covered in soot, her possessions burnt, her home destroyed, and Emma felt the searing embarrassment of her panic. Ignoring the increasingly humiliated face on her lover, Regina had instead stood to peer out of the window. She stepped back quickly. ‘You have a busy morning ahead of you, Emma.’`

Emma almost ran to the window, and stared in horror at the events outside. Smoke billowed down the street, so much so that it was impossible to tell where had been hit. The streets, so silent and empty only moments before, were full of people. Some stood transfixed with what their own street had become, some looked groggy as if just pulled from bed to see the commotion, others were in a panic, running, screaming, crying. The light made it difficult for Emma to tell, but many seemed to be covered in blood. She turned away. Two deep breaths. And then she stood up straight and calm.

‘Regina, you need to get dressed and leave. There’s a back door through Gold’s shop, use that, it’ll be open, just anything to avoid the street outside. In a minute, the phone will ring and wake Henry, if he isn’t awake already, and he cannot see you. When I can, I’ll call.’

‘What about Henry here?’

‘He’s spent time here with me out. He’ll cope. You need to go.’

Regina was slipping on her shoes when, true to Emma’s own words, the phone started to ring. Emma, already dressed, left her room quickly to answer it.  As she pulled the receiver to her ear, she watched Regina quietly leave the flat.

‘Swan. Swan. Bloody hell, Swan, respond.’

‘Red?’

‘Dang, Swan, way to make a girl edgy.’ She could hear her friend’s panic over the phone in her jerky breathing. ‘Don’t do that, Swan.’

‘Calm down, Red. I’m here, I’m fine.’

‘It is your street, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, the smoke’s enough to choke a man.’

‘This is big, Swan. No-one saw this coming. Granny’s busting our chops, we’ve got to get down there. Do you think…’

‘Look, Red, there is no way I’m staying in. Bring my stuff from the station. I’ll meet you on the street.’

‘Cheers, Swan.’ There was a momentary pause, before Red whispered, ‘Granny’s scared, Swan. Seriously. Nobody saw this coming- no wardens, no station leaders. There’s talk it wasn’t even dropped, Swan. This bomb was put there.’

The phone line went silent as both women stopped, even Red stunned into silence by what she was saying. Swan broke the quiet. ‘I’ll see you, Red.’

* * *

 

Henry spent a lot of time by himself. He never really noticed. Even when he had someone around, he spent most of his time reading, writing, his head in some distant land whilst his feet remained firmly stuck in London. The same was true of that day. He awoke the minute he heard the explosion, the screaming. The phone caused him to sit up in bed, ready to leap out and answer it, preparing himself in case it was a call to action, his chance finally to play his part. Then, of course, he heard his mother answer the phone. He heard the door open and close twice. He knew about his mother’s guest, he read enough stories about boys kept in the dark by their parents. Well, he wasn’t going to be one of them. He was _eleven_. Plenty old enough to know everything, even if his mother refused to share.

That said, he still jumped from his chair when he heard the door open later in the day, and he ran to wrap his arms tightly around the returning Emma Swan.

‘Blimey, Henry, anyone would think you’d missed me.’ She joked as she awkwardly tried to return his hug, whilst carrying her tin hat in one hand.

‘You’ve been gone all day. And all the noise this morning. I’m glad you’re alright.’ He kept his voice still, but Emma could feel in his body the effort he was making not to cry. ‘I thought you would be and all but…’

‘I know, Hen, I know.’ She dropped her hat on the floor, and pulled him even closer, stroking the top of his head as she held him. After a moment or so, she pulled away and looked down at him. ‘How about, you make some tea, cut some of that cake, I’ll change out of these, and we have a talk?’

‘About what happened today?’ He asked excitedly, his eyes wide, his imagination racing when he thought about the sights from the window earlier in the morning.

‘A little bit.’ Emma nodded hesitantly. ‘A little bit about today.’

‘Well then, I don’t want to wait for tea. Tell me now.’ He sat down on the nearest chair, his face a picture of excited expectation. He missed entirely his mother’s need to change, or her own craving for tea and cake after a day of tasting only the smoke that hung in the air. ‘Tell me what happened. I heard explosions, and the phone rang. What did they want, mother? What happened?’

She sighed, and sat down opposite her son. ‘It was a bomb, Henry…’

‘A Nazi bomb?’

‘Yes, a Nazi bomb.’ She paused. ‘Most likely. The bomb people haven’t identified it yet.’

‘Just wait til I get to join the army. I’d let those Nazis have it. I really would. I’d go nuts on them. I’d be the best soldier in the entire army. I will be. Just wait, mother.’ He was getting excited, his mind racing with the thought of all his future adventures.

‘Calm down, kid.’ Emma reached over and ruffled his hair, the action enough to distract him from his previous excited outburst. ‘There’s something I need to talk to you about. A decision I’ve made. Had to make.’

‘Yeah?’ He asked, sitting on the edge of his seat, practically bouncing in his anticipation. ‘What is it, mother?’

‘Henry, I’ve found somewhere for you to go,’ Emma said, staring at her son, waiting for a reaction. When there was only silence, she continued, ‘You know Mr Gold downstairs and Belle? Belle’s father lives in the countryside in a village. She’s agreed to take you to stay with him, just whilst the war continues. He’s got a big house. He’s an inventor, so you can help him with all of his experiments. There’s even a school so you can continue with your reading. Just whilst the war’s on, Henry.’

The silence continued whilst Henry thought. Finally, he whispered, ‘Evacuating? You’re sending me to be evacuated?’

‘It’s not like normal evacuating. You’ll be staying with someone you know. Almost know. He’s Mrs Gold’s father so he’ll be lovely. Real swell. You’ll enjoy it. Like a holiday.’

‘You told me you’d never evacuate me.’ He frowned, his voice quiet, a combination of disbelief and betrayal. ‘You said never. Never ever.’

‘It wasn’t an easy decision. I don’t want to.’

‘Then don’t. You said I’d never have to go.’

‘Today scared me, Henry.’ She could feel tears forming as she looked at her son, his frown deepening, anger creeping across his face as he looked at her. ‘There was a bomb on our street. People died. People who we’ve walked past on the way to school, or out shopping. If that bomb had been just a few houses closer, it could have been us too. We could have been the ones trapped under piles of rubble. The war isn’t going away.’

‘I know that. I want to join. I want to help. I can’t do that in the countryside,’ he shouted at her. ‘You’re ruining my chances of helping. I can’t join the army in the country, I’ll be too far away.’ He had stood up, his body almost shaking his fury. ‘How can I help out if I’m in some dull village? I’m never going to be the best soldier if I’m in a tiny village with no-one around…’

‘You’re too young, Henry,’ Emma interrupted, stopping her son mid-thought. At his outburst, she actually had felt tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. ‘You’re too young to help in any way. But you can help me by keeping safe.’

‘You told me you’d never ever send me away. That we’d stay together. That we’d always stay together.’ He had tears too now falling rapidly from his eyes. Snot was starting to drip from his nose too, which he wiped with his sleeve. ‘You said that we had to stay together. We’re a team.’

‘We are a team, kid.’ Emma stood and pulled him into a close hug once more, feeling her uniform begin to dampen with his tears and snot. ‘But as a team, we have to look out for each other. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, Hen. This is me just looking out for you.’

‘But how will I  look out for you?’ He sniffed, wrapping his arms even tighter around her body.

She kissed the top of his head tenderly. ‘You need to find someone to help you with that, kid.’

* * *

 

A cold wind caused Henry to pull his coat tighter around him. He was stood on a crowded railway platform with hundreds of other people, waiting for the train that would send him far away from London. In his mind, he imagined the scene like a fairy tale, except he wasn’t being sent away by a wicked witch. He was being sent away by the Nazis.

He looked up to his side at his mother’s friend, the dark haired woman. His mother had left them together to try and find Mr Gold’s wife, who was supposed to be accompanying him on the railway. The woman beside him smiled coolly. He could tell she didn’t really want to be there. She certainly didn’t look the part of a mother bidding her child a final farewell, which it seemed not only he had noticed. She was drawing a number of curious glances. He smiled back though.

‘You’re the person my mother keeps inviting over at night. Don’t lie, I’m not a fool.’

Regina looked down again, Henry looking up at her with a mischievous smile. ‘Why would you think that?’

‘Your perfume. It’s the same smell that I smell each morning, and my mother certainly doesn’t wear it.’

She smiled again, and nodded. ‘You certainly aren’t a fool.’

‘Do you love her?’

Regina felt her eyes widen, and she raised her eyebrows to feign confusion. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘My mother. Do you love her?’ At the woman’s continued silence, he felt the need to explain. ‘Girls always say how much they love each other. They did it all the time at school. Boys don’t. They save all their love for that one special girl. But girls must have lots of love, to share.’

‘Is that what you think?’ Regina couldn’t help but smile amusedly at the boy’s logic.

‘Well, it’s true.’

‘Perhaps.’

He frowned, beginning to grow irritated with her seeming disbelief in his idea. How his mother had any conversation with her, he did not understand. But, he continued. ‘So do you love her? Do you love my mother?’

He watched with eager eyes as the woman seemed to think for a moment or so before nodding slowly. ‘Yes. Yes, I think I do. I do love her.’

‘Good.’ Henry smiled. ‘She’s really wonderfully swell. But then, you must think that to, else you wouldn’t love her.’

‘No, probably not.’

‘You need to do something for me then.’ He turned to face her fully, and held out his hand. ‘You need to make me a promise that you’ll protect her for me, while I’m away. You need to make sure nothing hurts her, in any way at all. I’ve done my best up til now, but I need someone to take over when I go. Can you do it? Can you promise me you’ll look after her?’

Regina turned to face him and gave a small shrug. ‘Why me?’

‘My mother’s been happier than I’ve seen her with you. That means you’re already doing something good. Can I trust you? Will you look after her?’

She smiled again, and placed her hand in his. ‘I will, Henry.’

‘Do you promise?’

‘I promise.’


	11. Daniel

**Chapter 11**

**Daniel**

A crash. The smash of glass against hard floor. Lady Cruella DeVil braced herself as she stood outside of the dining room, one hand clutching her steaming coffee, the other pulling her furs tight around her, and she entered.

‘Mal darling, go back to bed.’ She hadn’t even needed to see who had caused such noise before uttering the demand. She was met with exactly the sight she’d been expecting; Mal stood, hand extended yet empty, the glass that had been there moments before now lying in shattered pieces on the floor, the clear liquid seeping into the nearby rug. ‘And for goodness sake, will someone clean up this mess? That rug was not cheap.’

‘She’s not coming to the soiree, Cru,’ Mal said, eyes wide from across the table. ‘Tell her she must come. After all the planning, she must come.’

‘You’re babbling, Mal.’

A voice from behind Cruella spoke sharply, causing her to turn. She gave an unpleasant smile at the sight of the dark haired woman in the corner. ‘Why, Ms Mills, how nice of you to show yourself this morning. We weren’t expecting you for hours.’

‘She must come. After all the planning. Tell her she must come.’

‘Mal, you really must go back to…’ She stopped, noticing the empty decanter next to an armchair in the corner of the room and the crumpled throw lying on top. She shook her head. ‘Go to bed.’

‘I’m not a child, Cruella. You don’t get to tell me what I should and should not do. I may be living here, but that doesn’t mean I have to follow your orders.’ She reached for a bottle of clear liquid on the table, but a dark gloved hand took hold of it first. ‘Our company isn’t good enough for you, but our liquor is then, Regina?’

‘You’re drunk.’ She practically hissed in response, her stomach turning from the stench on the blonde woman’s breath, even from across the table.

‘And you may as well be a street walker, the amount of nights you spend here.’

‘Is that what this is? The proud Mal driven to drink by a little jealousy?’ She asked, spiking each word with a drop of malice.

‘Don’t patronise me.’ She had meant it to sound authoritative, but the drink caused her to stumble over the words, making Regina’s expression only more disgustingly pitying. ‘Get away from me, Mills.’

‘First you complain to stay away, then you complain that I’m here. Forgive me, Mal, if I’m ever so confused at what you want.’

‘You know what I want.’

‘I really do not need this.’ A fourth voice as the American walked into the room. Ursula cast a glance around the room, sighing as her eyes passed the smashed glass on the floor and the empty decanter. ‘And there goes the good whisky.’

‘I thought you were sleeping,’ Cruella leant towards her, whispering, a hand going to rest lightly on her arm. Ursula shook her head, eyes flicking to the blond socialite opposite them. Cruella followed her gaze and sighed. ‘Fine. Darling, come with me.’ She walked around the table and held out her arm to Mal, who took it uncertainly. ‘I’ll take you upstairs. We’ll get you a bath run, perhaps, or maybe just a little sleep will help.’

She continued to talk to her lowly as she led her from the room, leaving Ursula alone with Regina, her dark eyes even darker in anger. Regina ignored her, instead pouring herself a glass of the liquid from the bottle still in hand. She took a sip, the strength causing her to shudder.

‘You shouldn’t be making an enemy out of Mal, you know?’ Regina continued to ignore her, sipping slowly on the drink. Ursula shook her head and walked around the table until she was facing the other woman. ‘Of all the people you could be hurting; you’re a fool to hurt Mal.’

‘Forgive me, but I’m failing to understand your concern.’

‘No concern of mine. Consider this just me trying to look after you. Be nicer to her.’

‘Nicer?’ Regina scoffed, throwing her head back to swallow the last of the glass. She put it back down on the table with a loud slam. ‘I’m not doing anything to her. It isn’t my problem if she’s unwilling to let go of the past.’

‘Trouble is, Mills, you share a lot of that past. And a hell of a lot of your present. You really don’t want to give her cause to go rag on you.’

‘She wouldn’t.’ She tried to sound confident, but Ursula smirked at the edge of doubt in her voice.

‘It’s your call. I’m just giving you warning now. I’m not too sure what your little dolly bird blonde would think of you should Mal get to her. And me and Cru aren’t so sure we’d support you if anything came out.’ Ursula walked back around until she was at Regina’s side. She placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned in closely. ‘I’d reconsider the soiree, dear.’

She left Regina alone for her second drink.

* * *

 

‘I got a letter from David. Girls, I got a letter from David!’

The three women sat around the table looked up as Mary Margaret ran in, an envelope clutched above her head, a tear slipping down her smiling face. Instantly, all three women were calling her over. Red grabbed another mug from the cupboard and poured another steaming cup of tea from the pot. Belle pulled out a chair for Mary Margaret to sit in, whilst Swan piled all the cards strwn across the table.

‘When did you get it?

‘When did you send yours?’

‘Have you opened it?’

‘Come on, Blanchard, open it. He might have news.’

Mary Margaret was still smiling, practically clutching the envelope to her chest. Letters were rare from the front line. Replies took months. She treasured every single one she had received in the last three years.

‘You haven’t even opened it yet, Blanchard.’ Red scoffed, reaching to snatch the letter from her colleague’s hands, but she moved away. ‘Spoilsport.’

‘Find your own sweetheart soldier and then you can receive all the letters you wish.’ Belle raised an eyebrow mockingly, before turning back to Blanchard with a smile. ‘Open it!’

‘Should I?’ Mary Margaret asked, looking around the table at the three women, all nodding eagerly. Hesitantly, she tore the top of the envelope with her fingernail and pulled out the folded letter inside. She looked around again. ‘Do you want me to read it?’

‘Depends if he’s written anything saucy.’ Red smirked. ‘If so, then certainly.’

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes before holding the letter up. ‘My darling Mary, I’m doing well, thank youb for your concern. How are you? The war effort is going splendidly. The Jerries will have no option soon but to surrender, then that Hitler won’t know where to turn…’

Emma listened half-heartedly, her mind drifting. She had never actually met David Nolan, Mary Margaret’s soldier. She wasn’t sure any of the girls had. Blanchard spoke about him regularly enough, and she read out all the letters she received from him. Perhaps if they’d had soldiers of their own, she wouldn’t bother. Perhaps she thought she was doing them a favour, sharing the experience of having someone fighting for you- fighting for your country, your freedom. Or maybe then they’d all have letters to read out. Maybe their soldiers would know each other- they could fight together in France, whilst their woman worked alongside each other in England. What a wartime romance…

‘You must warn your friend about Mrs Fabell.’ Regina’s name caused Emma’s ears to prick up. She’d missed entirely what Mary Margaret had read, but her attention was focused now. ‘Tell her to ask Mrs Fabell about a man named Daniel. I knew him when he used to work on Mrs Fabell’s estate, before she was married. If your friend is going to continue in her companionship with Mrs Fabell, she must know about Daniel.’

‘You wrote to David about me?’ Emma interrupted, causing Mary Margaret to look up in wide-eyed surprise from the letter. ‘Why did you do that?’

‘I tell David everything that happens. As he does with me. We’re going to be married when he returns, that means we can’t have secrets.’

‘But my life is none of your concern. And it certainly isn’t any of David’s concern,’ Emma snapped, her anger only heightened by Mary Margaret’s total naivety.

‘I merely wrote mentioning how you recently made acquaintances with Mrs Fabell. Nothing more. That is a simple statement.’ She frowned. ‘It isn’t my fault that David has mentioned something about her that you didn’t know.’

Emma stopped. ‘Don’t be absurd.’

‘Well, that is your concern, is it not?’ Belle asked. ‘Mary Margaret merely told David you had made an acquaintance with Regina. You can’t possibly be offended at that. You are upset that he mentioned this man, Daniel.’

‘Has she not mentioned Daniel?’ Mary Margaret’s eyes were still staring, impossibly wide and naïve. There was silence around the table. Emma pushed her chair out and stood up, no noise being made, cast an iron glance around at the three women and left the station.

* * *

 

She sat, cross legged, back rigid, hands fidgeting in her lap, her gaze directed firmly out of the window of her flat. Four hours had passed since she had left the station. Four hours to occupy to prevent her thinking about Mary Margaret, her damned soldier, and Daniel.

 _Who was he?_ He could be anyone. A friend. A relative. _A lover_. She shook her head before the thought could settle. She wished she’d paid more attention to the rest of David’s letter. He could have mentioned something before. He _knew_ Daniel. He had been an employee of the Mills family. He may not even be anything to Regina. David hadn’t been specific- maybe he simply wanted to know where Daniel was. That could be it. A simple reunion. Why rush to panic about something that could mean nothing?

 _And yet_ …

Across the room, her clock chimed, and she cast a glance towards it. _Regina was an hour late_. Emma turned back to the window. Outside, London was dark, lit only by streetlights and the pitiful sliver of moon. Inside, her mind felt quite the same, her sliver of hope growing dimmer by the minute.

* * *

 

Across London, Regina Mills was fixing a gold earring into her ear absentmindedly, her eyes focused on the view outside of her window. With a sigh, she shut the curtain and turned around to cast a last glance on her reflection in the mirror. Satisfied, she smoothed her skirts and headed gracefully downstairs, preparing herself for the night of mindless conversation she was accustomed to at the soiree’s of Lady De Vil. She passed Ursula on the grand staircase, who nodded at her in approval, before looking back at her with an admiring smirk. Regina however, did not see this, as she took a glass of champagne from one of Cruella’s many housemaids, dressed for the evening as expensive serving girls, and fixed a smile on her face, ready for the evening.

‘Ms Mills?’ She was beckoned by the one of the maids with eyes downcast, to follow her to meet the butler in the hall, where he had the phone receiver in hand. At her demandingly quizzical stare, he murmured, ‘A Miss Swan on the phone for you, madam.’

She’d been expecting such a call. She took the receiver gently. ‘Miss Swan?’

‘I’ve been waiting for you. Where are you?’

‘Not with you clearly.’

‘Don’t.’ The warning was clear. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’ve been roped into a soiree, my dear, I couldn’t possibly leave.’

‘A soiree?’ It was repeated with disgust. ‘You cannot possibly be serious.’

‘The idea of Lady De Vil.’

‘Forgive me for my disbelief.’ There was a pause, as if the other woman was deciding which approach she was going to take over the phone. ‘You said you would be here.’

‘I know.’

‘Then why aren’t you?’

Another pause. Regina’s voice was distant when she replied. ‘I couldn’t be there.’

‘That’s not the truth.’

‘It’s as much of the truth as I can give you.’

‘Maybe you can explain it to me sometime. You can explain all about Daniel then as well.’ Regina felt herself freeze, her mouth unable to move, the brain unable to think. Her silence must have been evident because Emma spoke again. ‘I heard all about Daniel today. I assume you can’t give me the truth about him either.’

‘Emma.’

‘Enjoy your soiree.’

The line was dead. Regina returned the receiver with a shaking hand. She handed her glass to the serving maid- she felt her head spinning, champagne couldn’t possibly help.

 _Daniel_.

_Emma._

* * *

 

Ursula placed her hand on Cruella’s shoulder lightly later that night. The blonde woman turned with a slightly intoxicated smile. She leant up to purr into her lover’s ear, and then shook her head in confusion at the question posed to her. She watched in confusion as the American then turned and stormed out of the room.

Regina was not at the soiree.


	12. A Virtuous Young Lady

**Chapter 12**

**A Virtuous Young Lady**

She was curled angrily on the windowsill, arms wrapped tightly around her legs, when she heard the door. She mentally snapped at the little jump she felt at the possibility of who it could be, reminding herself that Gold lived in the same building, and that the woman she wanted had clearly more important things to be doing. However, she was proved wrong as the footsteps continued to her flat, and there was a sharp rap on the door. She opened it without a backwards glance.

‘I thought you had other plans this evening.’ Emma Swan returned to sit on the windowsill, her gaze firmly focused on the city outside the window, rather than the raven haired socialite behind her, carefully removing and folding her gloves. ‘Who knew the magic word to summon you at any given moment would be _Daniel…_?’

The words had barely left her lips when she felt a strong hand grab her wrist and pull her up to stand. She was barely a hair’s width from Regina’s cold eyes. ‘Who told you his name? Mal? Zelena? Who told you?’

‘Let go of my wrist.’

For that, she was rewarded with a tightening of the vice like grip, causing her skin to pinch. When the other woman spoke again, her voice was barely louder than a breath. ‘Who told you his name?’

‘Get off me,’ Emma demanded again, but this time such a demand was met. She held her wrist to her chest, rubbing it with her other hand. Her face however, rather than pained, was one of pure fury. ‘Is this all you came for? To blow your fuse at me and ask some cock-eyed questions? Beat it. Go back to your ridiculous soiree.’

‘Tell me who told you.’ The earlier anger had gone and instead, Emma was met with ice. Regina didn’t move. She barely even blinked. She was a single minded statue, her stare unrelenting. ‘All I want is a name.’

‘If I give you a name, I want you out.’ The socialite’s lack of reply was taken as acceptance. ‘It was just one of the girls from the station. Her soldier mentioned him in a letter. Told me to ask you. Mentioned he used to work for you.’

‘That’s all?’

‘That’s all.’

‘Good.’ She nodded her head curtly and turned, heading straight back to the door. _No explanation. No apology_. Emma felt her temper stir again.

‘Who is he?’ She caused Regina to stop, as if frozen. She remained facing the door, as if unable to turn around, but also unable to leave. The sight made Emma more confident. _She would answer the question_. ‘You came all this way to ask me simply how I learnt his name. So, who is he?’

‘You don’t need to know.’ She continued to head towards the door, recovered. She still refused to look back.

‘Yes, I do.’ She stormed forwards, a hand grabbing Regina’s shoulder to pull her around. The force of it seemed to take both women by surprise, Emma momentarily forgetting the point she had been planning to make. The sight of the other woman’s face though, the warmth in her stomach as she saw her, combined with the fury she felt, reminded her quickly. ‘I’m sick of this. Every time I think I know you, something makes me realise I don’t have any idea who you are at all. Every time I think I have you, really have you, someone makes me look down and realise I’m just holding on to some remnant of you. You know everything about me. You know about Henry, about Neal. Christ, you’re the closest person I’ve ever introduced to Henry; you came with me when he left. You’re part of my whole World. But you hide everything from me- you didn’t tell me about your sister, I have no idea what your family is like, I don’t know what you want. And now, this. So leave, if you want. But you leave and you don’t return because I refuse to be lied to any further.’

The outburst took more from her than she realised, and she dropped her hand from Regina’s shoulder, turning back away, refusing to let the socialite see even the hint of the bitter tears forming in her eyes. She expected to hear the door behind her, but the flat remained silent.

A very quiet voice. ‘That isn’t fair, Emma.’

‘I ask for nothing beyond that I’ve given you.’ She met Regina’s eyes with a long stare. The dark gaze was softened, apologetic, but resolved.

‘Daniel is no-one for you to be concerned about.’

‘Then you can tell me.’

‘He’s long gone.’

‘Then there is surely nothing to hide.’

‘You might not like what you hear.’

‘That’s for me to judge.’

At this, Regina snapped, grabbing hold of one of the chairs, her hands clenched so tightly, Emma could see the blue veins under her pale skin. ‘Why does this matter so much to you? Why does this one detail of my life so many years before we met mean so much to you.’

‘Because it’s your life. Because I thought that’s what we were doing- sharing our lives. Else why are you here?’

She watched as Regina’s mouth opened, only to be closed moments later, as if in realisation that anything she could possibly say would be pointless, aside from that being asked of her. Tiredly, she pulled the chair from under the table and sat down, no longer resisting, and Emma sat down opposite her.

‘Daniel, then, Miss Swan?’ Emma could feel her heart in her chest, squeeze with anticipation. _She could regret this_. The thought until then had not entirely crossed her mind. ‘Daniel, Miss Swan, was the only man I have ever loved. Does that make you happy?’

She felt her heart, already tight, tighten further. Her stomach drop. The feeling must have been visible on her face because Regina gave a pained smile.

‘I did warn you.’

‘I know.’ The churning in her stomach was worsening. ‘But I still want to hear.’

The other woman nodded, as if having already predicted this would be the response she received. ‘My family have an estate outside London. Nothing excessive, just a few acres of land. Daniel used to work in the family stables. I was seventeen; he was a few years older. He was kind to me, gentle, interested in what I had to say. He was everything that my mother wasn’t, and I was grateful. I enjoyed riding anyway, but I found myself spending time there just to see him. We used to take out the horses, until we were far enough away that we were no longer visible from the house, and sit for hours together, just talking. It lasted months before either of us said anything, and then it happened very quickly. Within weeks we were speaking of leaving together, getting married and running away. Away from my mother, away from her control and degradation, away to find somewhere we could be happy, just us. But, of course, my mother found out, as she always did, and he was sent away.’

‘Well, that’s nothing to be…’

‘That’s not the end, Miss Swan.’ Her eyes, only moments earlier gloriously warm with nostalgia, were suddenly very cool. ‘He was sent away- no references, no money, no possible way to see me again. I, of course, was kept under lock and key in the house. If I needed to leave to go visiting, or even just to go shopping, I had to be accompanied by an escort. That lasted three weeks. In the third week of my virtual imprisonment, I went downstairs for breakfast but was met only with the day’s newspaper, and my mother’s triumphant smile. It took me 30 minutes to find what had made her so happy- it was just one paragraph on the sixth page. Daniel had been killed. Run over whilst walking home one day. No eyewitnesses. No suspects. A dreadful accident. I was allowed back out after that- but I wasn’t allowed to grieve, not in front of mother.’

Emma felt a sudden wave of regret. Of doubt. _She didn’t need to hear this_. ‘Regina, I’m so sorry. You don’t have to…not if it still hurts…’

Another cool glance. ‘You asked for this, you need to hear it all. That was the end for mother, but not for me. I was a seventeen year old girl, I had been in love, I had not been smart. Almost a month later, I realised I was pregnant.’

‘But your mother? What did she say?’

‘My mother?’ Regina frowned.

‘She must have been furious. Did she send you away?’

Regina was still frowning, as if contemplating how such a question could even have been asked. ‘My mother was talking about marriage. She wanted to find me a husband, prevent such a scandal from happening again, she could never find out about that. No man would marry a teenage girl with a bastard child. The idea is ridiculous. I never told my mother.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I knew Mal. We were close friends. Her family was close to mine. Mal was not, what people would call, a virtuous young lady. She knew somewhere, someone, who could help me. She took me, without questions, without threat. She wanted nothing in return.’ The mention of Mal made her think about the sight of her earlier. _She owed her more_. At the sight of Emma’s face opposite, with its sense of dawning realisation, she continued. ‘It was expensive, but I had enough saved without alerting mother. Mal had already warned me about the procedure, but nothing prepared me for the reality. It was painful, bloody. They used anaesthetic but not enough, not at first. Only when it started to go wrong did they increase the dosage…’

Emma felt herself chill as she listened. ‘When what went wrong?’

Regina’s dark eyes were cold once more, her voice monotonous as if frozen itself. ‘The doctor removed the baby, Miss Swan. I got rid of it. I entered that operation pregnant, and I left the operation not. It really is very simple.’

‘You killed your baby.’ Emma started back, practically jumping from her chair, as if being too close to Regina would cause some of the sin to catch. ‘You killed a baby. Your baby.’

‘It was hardly a baby.’

‘How could you?’ Regina stepped towards her, but Emma stepped back once more, as if the pair were performing some ritualistic dance. ‘How could you? It’s illegal…it’s a sin.’

‘How could I not?’ She asked angrily. ‘I would have lost everything. I would have been sent away. I would have lost my home, my money, my life. For what? The bastard child of a dead man?’

‘A baby. Your baby. Daniel’s baby. How could you have loved him when you could do that to his child?’

‘My feelings for Daniel are nothing to do with this.’ A snarl. ‘Daniel was dead. The child would not bring him back.’

‘I did it. I lost everything with Henry. But I loved him, and cared for him.’

‘And what do you expect me to say to that, Emma?’ She asked, her voice halfway between exasperation and apology. ‘You’re better than me? Stronger than me? That at seventeen years old, I’m sorry but I couldn’t imagine a life without wealth and luxury and I would have given anything to keep that?’

It was Emma’s voice now that was cold, accusing. ‘Including murder?’

‘Murder?’ Regina scoffed, masking the grief threatening to rise up and choke her. ‘It wasn’t murder.’

‘You killed your baby.’

‘It wasn’t a baby. The doctor would never have done that. It was barely alive. A parasite, almost. It needed me to become a life. I couldn’t have that.’ She was laughing almost, her anger, tears and confusion mixing to form a deadly cocktail of absurd laughter. ‘What do you want from me? I can’t undo the decision. But nor would I want to, I have never regretted it. Even losing what I did, I could never regret the decision.’

‘And what did you lose?’ The driver asked mockingly, eyes narrowed.

‘I can’t ever have children now.’ The confession momentarily softened Emma’s expression, empathetic pain passing across her face. ‘The doctor made a mistake during the procedure. I can never be a mother.’

It was a painful confession. Emma knew this. She’d been with young women on the streets after bombings, whose only fears were that they would never be able to have children because of their injuries. She had known women who couldn’t, who had spent each day cursing such a fate. And yet, she could not stop the word from leaving her mouth.

‘Good.’

* * *

 

It haunted her that night, alone, as she remembered the piercing hurt that had flashed in Regina’s dark eyes.


	13. Good People Get to be Happy

**Chapter 13**

**Good People Get to be Happy**

A siren. A scream. Almost simultaneously. The sound was shocking, but not enough to rouse anyone from their sleep any quicker than an unpleasant dream may do. The two noises were far too common to quicken the heartbeat anymore.

Regina’s eyes flicked open, checking the sudden assault on her ears was not simply her own imagination. The continuation of the siren forced her to sit up. Under the bed covers, she felt skin brush against her naked calf, and she pulled her legs closer to her with a shudder. The other woman did not seem to notice, either Regina’s reaction or the noise; her eyes remained closed, her face peaceful. It took a less than gentle nudge against her shoulder for her eyelids to flicker.

‘What on Earth is that?’ She sat up also, her face scrunched.

‘Air raid siren.’ Regina swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for her dressing gown to cover her nudity. As she wrapped it around her, she cast a look back at the woman still in bed. ‘Mal, air raid siren, get dressed.’

‘For what? Just get a servant to make it stop.’ She went to settle back down under the covers, but her companion’s stare seemed to prevent her. She flicked her gaze to the clock besides her and sighed. ‘This is absurd.’

‘Just get dressed, Mal.’

‘Well, honestly, what is the point? If we’re bombed, we’ll be bombed whether I’m dressed or not.’ A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. ‘In fact, maybe naked would be better, give the fire girls something to look at.’

‘Your charred, blackened body? Marvellous.’ Regina rolled her eyes, when there was a second scream, louder even than the first. Mal got up, and was dressing, when the bedroom door was flung open and a maid ran in, face flushed.

‘Leave now, you little…’ Mal snarled, desperately covering herself, but the young woman’s attention was solely on Regina.

‘Ms Mills. Ms Mills. You sister, miss. The baby’s on its way.’

Cruella and Ursula were stood, both also still dressed in their nightclothes, in Zelena’s room, as the redhead on the bed cursed loudly in a variety of languages. How much pain she was experiencing, compared with how much pain she wanted people to think she was experiencing, was very difficult to tell. Although the other two women cared little for either.

Zelena seemed to subside when her sister arrived, holding out her arms for Regina to reluctantly hold her head against her stomach. As she did so, she turned to Cruella. ‘I trust you’ve called a doctor for her?’

A surprising frown. ‘No.’

‘A nurse? Midwife? Someone?’

‘Not at all.’

Zelena broke away from her sister, her face livid. Her voice, when she eventually spoke however, was a whisper. ‘You haven’t called for anyone? So you expect me to do what exactly? Have my baby with four dykes staring at me? I mean, you can’t really do anything to help, you aren’t particularly knowledgeable in this, are you?’

‘No doctor’s going to make the trip during this raid. It’s ridiculous,’ Ursula drawled.

‘I’m not losing this baby because of a bloody air raid. You need to get me a doctor.’ The whisper had gone, replaced by furious shouting.

‘There’s one other option.’ Ursula glanced over at Cruella and she raised an eyebrow. Both of their gazes turned on Regina. ‘Your little friend, dear. Miss Emma…something.’

‘She’d be here the minute you rang, darling. I’ll send the car.’

Besides her, Regina felt Mal stiffen. Her own heart was thumping. ‘No.’

‘You sister is having a baby, Mills. You don’t know what to do any more than we do. She does. Ask her.’ Zelena was no longer paying attention to the conversation, her face contorted in pain as she lay on the bed. A glance over sent a wave of guilt washing over her sister.

‘We don’t need some little blonde girl to tell us what to do. If Regina’s not happy…’

‘Oh, so you understand what to do, Mal? You’ve delivered many babies, have you?’ Ursula asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. At the question, Mal fell silent, eyes downcast. ‘Don’t be such a child, Regina. Phone the damned woman.’

‘She won’t come here.’

‘Oh, she will.’

* * *

 

The phone rang three times before Emma Swan picked it up. She expected the voice of Red, or even Granny, on the end of the line, begging for her help at the station. She was ready to go, in the middle of lacing her boots even. She knew the sound of an emergency by the point in the war.

‘Hello, Miss Swan.’

She felt her heart stop. In her stomach, she felt a bubbling, her head getting light. In her mind, all she could see was the look in the other woman’s eyes the last time they had seen each other. She still had not spoken. Her hand was shaking, hesitating.

As if sensing what Emma was going to do, Regina spoke again. ‘Don’t put the receiver down. I need you.’

‘I doubt it.’

‘Zelena is having her baby. She needs someone with her, someone who knows what to do.’

‘Phone for a doctor.’

‘There isn’t a doctor in London who would come out tonight. Miss Swan, please.’ A pause. ‘Emma.’

‘What if I can’t come either?’

‘Cruella will send her car.’ Regina could feel the cold in Emma’s voice, even through the phone. _One last try_. ‘Forget me. You met Zelena. You like Zelena. I’ll stay out of your way. But please help her. She’s having a child, you know I don’t understand that.’

Emma wasn’t sure, but she could have sworn the last sentence wasn’t quite so clear down the phone, as if it was being spoken through choked back tears.

* * *

 

Cruella’s nose crinkled in disgust as she heard another scream from upstairs, and she took her recently refilled glass from Ursula with a grateful nod. _It sounded like medieval torture_. The siren outside continued, but no-one had left the house. Instead, they had waited for Swan’s arrival, and then immediately directed her upstairs with the housemaids as support. The women had congregated in the drawing room, which is where they’d remained for the last three hours. Only Regina had chosen tea as her morning drink.

‘I knew I should have given her the same bedsheets as the maids. I’ll never get the blood out of those upstairs.’ Cruella grimaced at the thought, though whether that was at the loss of her sheets or the birth happening, no-one was quite sure.

‘You know some births can last days. I can’t possibly have that, this is ghastly enough as it is.’

‘The screaming is just turning my stomach.’ Mal shivered, taking another long sip of drink. She wasn’t sure what it was, the early morning and previous glasses having numbed her sense of taste. ‘Surprised you left her, Regina. Your sister, after all. And her.’

Regina refused to answer, merely sitting, staring straight ahead. Cruella stepped in for her. ‘Well how could anyone possibly watch, darling? I rather enjoy a woman down there, I don’t want to see a child being pushed out.’

‘There’ll be a baby in the house after this,’ Ursula said. ‘How are you going to cope with that?’

The blonde socialite sighed heavily. ‘And I resisted so many attempts from my late husband to have one. There must be a way to just send it back to the father, surely? Zelena’s done her work, after all?’

‘I am so grateful we could never have a child, dear.’ Ursula snaked an arm around her lover’s waist and kissed her neck softly, causing the other woman to purr. Mal looked away, face flushed. She looked to Regina, but she was still staring into the distance, the drink in her hand untouched.

A loud scream, louder than any having been heard already, pierced the room from upstairs. It seemed to last minutes upon minutes, shaking the chandeliers, causing ripples across the mirrors. And then, silence.

A knock on the door and a maid entered.

‘Excuse me, madam, Lady DeVil. Madam’s had her baby. A girl, madam. I’ve been told to tell you she must be left to rest, but you may see the baby if you wish.’

Cruella wrinkled her nose in disgust.

* * *

 

Emma Swan didn’t turn when she heard the door open and close gently. She didn’t turn as she heard footsteps approach from behind. Only when she heard the figure speak,

‘She’s beautiful.’

She tore her eyes from the baby lying asleep on the bed, to look at the dark-haired woman besides her. Her gaze, usually so hard, had softened at the sight of the sleeping child, and it didn’t change as her gaze moved to the blonde driver, the look of love for her sister’s daughter still reflected on her face.

‘Thank you, Miss Swan.’ It was genuine, honest. Emma felt a pang of guilt from within her chest. She’d been steeling herself for resentment, anger, and such a notion now hurt her. ‘And my sister?’

‘She’s sleeping.’ She felt winded almost, unable to talk. She’d been building up for the confrontation, and now all other words seemed to slip from her.

Regina glanced over again, as if sensing Emma’s struggle. ‘You don’t need to stay. I am capable of watching a child.’

‘Your friend, Mal, doesn’t seem to think so. She was in here before you, warning me about leaving you with any children, given you history.’ _It was the wrong thing to say_. Emma acknowledged it almost as soon as the words left her lips. She watched with a bitter sense of self-loathing as Regina’s gaze cooled, eyes narrowing, her mouth hard.

‘Well, she’s had me back the last month, she’s hardly going to encourage our friendship.’ She didn’t look at Emma as she spoke, instead remaining fixed on the baby, but her eyes were no longer seeing, her mind beginning to cloud with thick red rage.

‘You don’t wait long.’

‘And that surprises you? You came with me to my husband’s funeral.’

Emma coloured. ‘At your request.’

‘Why do my affairs concern you anyway, Miss Swan?’ She turned now away from the bed to look directly at Emma, whose flushed face was a direct contrast to her own, pale with fury. ‘The last time I saw you, when I, at your insistence, told you a history I have kept reserved for myself alone, you deemed me a murderer. So why should you care at all how a murderer spends her time?’

‘I…I…’ From within her gut, she could feel her own anger building. Bubbling. Boiling. And then, nothing. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘You’re sorry?’

‘Yes.’

Regina laughed harshly. ‘You think that makes this better? You think that makes anything better? To say what you did and then simply _apologise_? What do you expect?’

‘Nothing. I expect nothing. But…I was angry. Upset. Shocked. You have to try and understand that…’

‘I have to understand? Are you listening to yourself, Swan?’ She walked away, as if going to leave, her hand on the doorknob when she turned around. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, quieter, but still laced with fury. ‘Do you know what I want, Miss Swan? Something I’ve realised only recently?’ She didn’t expect Emma to answer, and indeed her question was met with silence. ‘A child. That sounds absurd, does it not? When I was young, I wanted my freedom, but now I wish for a child. My own, to love, to teach, someone I can show the World to in a way I wasn’t shown it myself.’

‘You had that. And then you ended it.’

‘No, I had a death sentence. I had the end of my life as I knew it. I could never have had that baby and raised it as well as I’d have wanted.’

 ‘I did. I had Henry when I was young. I survived.’

‘Now it’s you who is failing to understand.’ Regina shook her head. ‘You never had anything when you had Henry. You lost nothing when he was born. You had nothing to adapt to, no loss to comprehend. I would have done. I would have lost everything with that child. I could never have done that. Does that mean that today I don’t crave a child? No, I do. I look at my sister’s daughter.’ She gestured to the baby on the bed, still sleeping soundly. Emma could swear she saw a tear in the socialite’s eye at the sight of her. ‘And I feel a loss that I will never be able to express. Because I will never get to have that I will never have a child that is mine, and I feel that gnaw at me with every single breath I take some days. But does that mean I can regret the decision I made that day? No, never.’

Her shoulders were shaking, tears now clearly spilling down her cheeks, and she sank to the floor with her back against the door, as if fatigued with grief. Emma watched her, every inch of her wanting to sit beside her, to pull her close, but instead she crouched opposite her. She didn’t speak, merely waited in the silence broken only by the other woman.

Eventually, Regina looked up. ‘You know, Miss Swan, I thought I could have what I wanted with you? I thought I had found everything I wanted with you, with Henry. I always intended it. Whatever has happened, I intended to be there for you both. That maybe after all this, after the war, when we all get our lives back, we could have been something like a family. Ridiculous, is it not?’

‘Regina…’

‘People like me don’t get those things.’ She laughed bitterly. ‘How can we? How can we do the things we do and still expect to be happy? Good people get to be happy. You’ll get to be happy, Emma, once you’re far away from me. Happiness isn’t given to the rest of us.’

‘Regina.’ She didn’t resist this time, she moved to besides the other woman, pulling her close, so her head was resting on her shoulder. With her spare hand, she ran her fingers softly through her dark hair. ‘You’re good, Regina. You’re good. Whatever you’ve done, you’re good.’

‘You don’t believe that.’

Guilt made her face flush. ‘I was wrong. Very wrong. Blame the Catholic matrons who raised me. Blame my ignorance. But I was wrong. I didn’t have options when I had Henry, I didn’t know there were other things I could do. Maybe if I’d have known, I wouldn’t have had him either. You just…had a choice.’ Regina was silent. Emma seemed to feel the pounding of her heart as she held her, unless it was merely her own. She felt herself whisper, ‘You have to be good, Regina, because I can’t have fallen in love with a villain.’

She wasn’t sure what she expected by saying such words. Words that had been weighing her down since their last meeting, she’d now set free. Words she’d said to nobody before, now hung in the air as if she’d written them there, like a child with a sparkler. But Regina didn’t move, not even lifting her head.

‘I’ve fallen in love with you too, Miss Swan.’

* * *

 

Mal knew. The minute they entered the room, she knew. They were too close. No physical contact, Regina and Emma didn’t even brush hands, but they were too close. _She’d lost her_. Mal cursed to herself. Emma’s face was light, she wasn’t smiling but there was a brightness to her eyes, a lift in her lips. Mal scowled, her hand tightening around her glass.

 _This wasn’t over, Swan. It certainly was not over_.


	14. The Court of the Queen of Hearts

**Chapter 14**

**The Court of the Queen of Hearts**

The bombings increased in the months that followed. As if overnight, the war had intensified without any sense of reason. Emma’s shifts grew longer, harder. Her nights were no longer her own, they belonged solely to the war effort. Regina sat, night after night, in Emma’s flat, listening to the distant explosions across the city, praying to a God she did not believe in that Emma would return at the end of each night.

But every night, she did. Regina learnt quickly to recognise the two moods the driver would return in. The first was pure exhaustion- Emma staggered in, long after the dawn had risen, and she lay on the bed, desperate but unable to sleep, the sound of explosions still ringing in her head. Regina had tried to hold her one morning whilst she was in this mood, but had found herself shaken off, and had instead learnt to simply have ready a mug of tea and whatever food she could find sat on the bedside table.

The second mood was shock, perhaps more so than Emma would ever have admitted to, and the need to simply feel Regina’s body against her own, to feel her heartbeat against her chest- to know that they were both still alive after another night.

‘Leave,’ Regina murmured into Emma’s ear one morning, as they lay tightly entwined, her fingers pressed tightly into Emma’s side. ‘The war effort will cope without you. We can go away.’

‘I’m not a coward.’

‘I know. But neither are you immortal.’

* * *

 

The next night was hard. Four bombings. 12 dead. Many more injured. The night was long, longer than any night Emma had experienced. Of the dead, five had been children, one a mere baby. She had assumed that all children had been evacuated, that Henry had been one of the last. Each of the deaths became more painful when she thought of her son.

It was almost mid-morning when she arrived home, her feet heavy with more than just the weight of her regulation boots, her head sore. She craved sleep, but the stench of dirt and smoke on her skin forced her to think of bathing instead. As long as she could smell burning, she would never sleep.

‘Regina, I need to bathe.’ _She didn’t want tea. She’d already decided that. But the hot water could be used to fill the bath. It may take some time, but she didn’t need a lot. Just enough to clean herself. After all, water was a luxury._ Then she noticed Regina.

The socialite was sat by the window, head facing forward. She didn’t move at the sound of the door. Her eyes flickered towards the blonde woman, but her body remained still. A piece of paper was out in front of her, not long enough to be a letter from where Emma stood. A telegram.

‘My mother’s dying.’ She spoke suddenly, her voice distant. She finally looked over at Emma by the door still, who at the news sat down opposite her companion. ‘I received the news last night.’

‘Dying? Is it certain?’

She was met with a furious stare in response. ‘No. It’s simply something doctors say for fun during war. Yes, she’s dying.’ She took a deep breath, and when she spoke again, her voice was calmer. ‘She suffered a heart attack, the doctors believe. She refuses hospital care, she’s at home. They do not believe she will last beyond the next three days.’

‘Regina, I’m sorry…’ She stretched across to take her hand, but Regina withdrew hers, placing it in her lap.

‘Myself and Zelena will be visiting her tomorrow. Against my better judgement, Zelena will be taking her child. Mother has also requested that Mal join us, given our families’ history.’ Emma tried to hide the disappointment in her face at the thought of Mal’s inclusion, but Regina caught a glance. ‘She is only coming to appease a dying woman, Emma, I don’t want her there.’

‘What about me?’ Emma asked, frowning. ‘Can I come with you?’

‘This isn’t a social excursion, Swan,’ the socialite snapped, leaning forward, before falling back. ‘No, you have to be here anyway.’

‘I could take bereavement.’

‘You aren’t bereaved, Swan.’

‘To support you.’

Her eyes, bright and wide and earnest, caused Regina to smile, and she put her hand back on the table, allowing Swan to take it. But her mind was unchanged.

‘I need to see my mother, Emma. There are questions I must ask, and things I must say before she dies. And I must do it alone.’

‘Mal will be with you.’

Regina squeezed her hand softly. ‘Mal will be there. She will not be with me.’

* * *

 

The house had changed, even in the short time since Regina saw it last. The staff, already reduced with the number of men at war, was smaller still, with now the young women missing having been drafted into roles as nurses, factory workers, drivers. And with the loss of these people, the house itself seemed to have grown smaller. As a child, she’d always felt the house’s presence long before reaching it, as if its shadow seemed to stretch for miles, and it loomed over the nearby land like a giant in a fairytale. Stepping out of the car however, and glancing up, Regina couldn’t help but be underwhelmed. It no longer seemed to dominate the land as much as it confused. It seemed old, decaying, with brickwork that needed redoing and a roof in dire need of repair. _Why even compared to Emma’s…_

‘Miss Regina.’ Sidney stood by the door, his eyes bright at the sight of the socialite by the car. He approached, taking her hand when offered, before nodding to the other two women. ‘Miss Mal. Miss…’

‘My sister, Sidney. Zelena,’ Regina prompted and saw his eyes grow wide in embarrassment.

‘Why, of course, Miss Zelena. It has just been so long since you…and this is?’ He gestured to the baby in Zelena’s arms, as if desperate for some diversion from his own mistake.

‘My daughter, Sidney. Eva.’ She smiled, but was looking only at the door. ‘My mother, where is she?’

The red haired woman led the way into the house, leaving Mal and Regina to follow with their bags, as Sidney walked briskly ahead. They stopped as they reached the hallway, Zelena casting a look around in confusion, the years away having turned her home into a maze.

‘This way, Miss.’ Sidney gestured to a nearby door, leading to one of the home’s front parlours. He waited for all three women to have sat down before speaking. ‘Your mother has already given instructions for your arrival. She wishes to see Miss Mal first, followed by Miss Zelena, and lastly Miss Regina.’ He paused, casting a glance at Zelena, before continuing. ‘She also said, and I repeat only the words she said to me, that should Zelena insist on bringing it, she does not wish to see the bastard.’

Zelena cast a look down at her daughter and laughed. After a moment or so, she looked back up at Sidney, her eyes like ice. ‘You can tell her, when she asks for me, that I have indeed brought the bastard with me, but she will have to meet her. And should she complain, remind her that we can all leave at any point, and she can die here alone, without food or water, lying in her own filth. Is that clear?’

He nodded manically, before withdrawing from the room in a hurry. Zelena placed her daughter on the chaise besides her, and leant back with a satisfied smile.

* * *

 

 _Fresh hay. Clean leather. Earth._ Regina stood, eyes closed, breathing in the scent. She’d missed the stables, the only place from home she did truly long for when she was away. She reached forward, placing both palms against the old wooden column before her, feeling its roughness beneath hands that for so long had only seemingly felt smooth. For a minute, she was seventeen once more- no wars, no bombings, no marriage. She could hear the snorts of the horses in their stalls, waiting for the leather saddle that would mean their freedom for a few, sweet hours. Her freedom too. Waiting for her, just outside the stable doors, would be Daniel, his horse already saddled and ready to go. He might have prepared something, a couple of sandwiches shoved in his back pockets, always refusing to take any food Regina offered from the house. They rode together for hours, regardless of the month or season. They let the horses graze while they lay together, his arms around her, her head pressed close to his chest so she could feel his heartbeat against her cheek. In the rain, he’d pull her under an apple tree, and press her body against the trunk whilst his lips moved warm against her neck. For a short minute, eyes scrunched tight, she could go back. She could feel everything again.

‘Miss Regina…’

She opened her eyes. The minute was gone once more.

* * *

 

‘Regina, darling.’

‘Mother.’ Regina entered her mother’s bedroom slowly, it being a room she had only previously been given very limited access. It was however, of the whole house, the only room that was unchanged. Glass chandeliers still hung extravagantly from the ceiling, dust free even with the reduced staff. Every mirror in the room was spotless, from the dressing table, to the large floor length mirror in the corner. Even the walls had not change, still covered in a deep red, which when contrasted with the monochromatic furnishings, gave Regina a sense of being in the court of the Queen of Hearts.

There was one change however, she noticed as she approached the bed slowly. Her mother, lying in the bed, was far from the woman she had known. Her hair, so pristine, now hung limply around her shoulders. Dark shadows sat heavily underneath her eyes. Her face, so proud, seemed to droop. Even her cheekbones seemed softer, less prominent, as if even they were tired of standing.

‘Regina, sit down.’ She gestured to the chair besides the bed. ‘Or, before you do, you don’t have any bastards you will be parading in front of me, do you? Because, if you do, bring them in now and get it out of the way. Else my heart will give out entirely.’ As she watched Regina sit down slowly, she nodded. ‘Good, I’ll take that as a no. I’ve just seen your sister and hers. Ghastly thing, but then what can you expect from a lack of breeding? And to call it ‘Eva’, why it’s horrifically common. It makes me question the status of the father, I’ll say that.’

 _Not as much change as first thought, perhaps_. ‘I’m glad you’re happy to see your daughter after so long, mother. Zelena left home over ten years ago.’

‘Good riddance, really.’ Her mother shrugged. ‘Though, of course, she will understand when her daughter grows up. Such a mark of shame. You’d never understand though, dear, you haven’t even managed a legitimate one.’

‘Don’t hold back,’ Regina murmured sarcastically, but her mother only smiled.

‘My dear, I’m dying, I’m within my rights to say now whatever I wish. In a number of days, I’ll be dead and gone and you can forget it all. So…’ She paused. ‘Still unmarried?’

‘Widowed.’

‘No suitors?’

Emma crossed her mind momentarily. ‘None.’

‘All the work it took me to get you where you are today, and this is how you repay me. No children, no marriage, it is as if you wish to kill me yourself, Regina.’ She sat up straighter, the effort of such a move masked by the fury on her face. ‘Is that what you wish?’

‘You don’t want me to answer that.’

‘I’m dying; I want you to answer all of my questions. Just so I can see how much of a waste my life has been.’

‘That works two ways, mother. I need you to answer my questions to, just so I understand exactly how you’ve controlled my life.’ Regina hissed at Cora, before taking a breath and sitting back more calmly.

‘Fine.’ Cora nodded, repositioning herself more comfortably in her bed. ‘A question for a question. I’ll be generous, and let you start.’

‘Why did you dislike Daniel?’

‘What a waste of a question, my dear, and so bitter still after so long.’ She shrugged once more. ‘He was common and beneath us. If I’d have let you marry him, everything I’d ever done would have been for nought. My question now…’ She tilted her head slowly. ‘Why have you fought me on every offer of marriage you’ve received?’

‘Did you see the men who made the offers, mother?’ Regina frowned. ‘They didn’t want a wife, they wanted a doll. Something they could bring out and show off on special occasions before putting her away at the end of an evening. Either that or they wanted someone they could get half a dozen children off before they drank themselves to an early grave. They weren’t offers of marriage, they were offers of servitude.’

‘So dramatic, Regina. What is marriage if not that? Marriage isn’t about the man, but about what he can give you, and they offered more than enough. What more could you want?’

‘My question, actually.’ She paused, looking down at her lap for a moment. When she looked back up, her eyes were hard. ‘Daniel’s death, hit by a motorcar, a mere three weeks after you forced him to leave, was that really an accident?’

Regina didn’t know what she expected from Cora. The words seemed so heavy they almost seemed to fall from her mouth, the question hanging in the air between them. She considered that such a question may be too far, but then watched as her mother merely blinked.

‘No, my dear, of course not. I paid the chauffeur to kill him. It took an extortionate amount but it was worth it, for you.’ Regina felt herself freeze. Even her blood felt as though it had frozen solid in her veins. She must have shown this on her face, for her mother frowned at her in confusion. ‘You didn’t know, Regina? I know you were a naïve 17 year old, but I thought you’d have worked it out by now. Even you sister knew. She agreed that it had to be done. As long as Daniel was still alive, you’d still want to be with him, and I simply couldn’t risk it.’

‘Zelena knew?’ Her voice was barely a whisper. Her head was pulsing, trying to understand everything her mother was saying.

‘Why of course. She practically suggested it. Oh, don’t look like that, darling.’ Cora reached a hand across to take Regina’s. Her body was too limp to stop it. ‘We did it because we love you, Regina, and that’s the only reason. If Daniel had lived, you’d have found a way to be with him and live in some squalid little cottage with however many disgusting children he’d have wanted. You must see how wasted you’d have been- someone with your looks, your intelligence. You’d have been bored within months and had no way to back out. We did the right thing for you, you must understand.’

‘The right thing? Telling me to marry Leopold was the _right thing_?’

‘He had excellent prospects, darling.’ Cora smiled. ‘Before all that nonsense with the social care policy, but then I couldn’t have predicted that. I tried to do what was best for you.’

‘You have controlled my whole life,’ Regina said slowly, taking her hand back from her mother’s grasp. ‘My entire life has been run by you.’

‘You’re being very over-dramatic, dear…’

‘No, I’m not. Since I was a child, you told me what to do with my life- to get married, to have children, to be the respectable wife you considered yourself. You took from me a man I really truly loved, a man who only wanted to love and respect me, and forced me into a marriage with a man who was double my age and had so little regard for me that he regularly paraded his mistresses through our house.’

‘That’s marriage, Regina, it’s what happens.’

She shook her head, the beginnings of a smile on her face. ‘No, mother, no it isn’t. I lied earlier to you, when you asked if I had a suitor. I do. I have met someone who would never do that to me, even if we married.’

‘You’re not marrying him?’ Cora asked, her eyes wide in anger. ‘What’s wrong with him? Already married? Easy enough to deal with, should you know how.’

‘No.’

‘Then what?’

‘I’ve met a woman, mother. A woman who wants nothing more than to be with me and make me happy. A wonderful woman who even wanted, when she heard about you, to come here with me, and who I only stopped for your sake. But now, I don’t care.’ Her smile was wide now, growing wider as she saw her mother’s face fall with every word she spoke. ‘She has no money. She lives in a tiny flat in London with her son. She is everything you _saved_ me from all those years ago, and so much more because she is mine. She is the first person in my life far away from you, who you will have no control over, and she is who I choose to be with.’

‘Regina.’ Cora was speaking almost in gasps. ‘You wouldn’t.’

‘Why not? To preserve what you think you made for me? The life you thought you had trapped me in? I would rather live my entire life penniless, an outcast, with Emma than spend one more solitary day having you control me. You have lost all power over me now, and there is nothing more you can do to me…Mother?’ Cora’s face had frozen, her breath now a heavy pant, her hand clutching at her chest. Her eyes were unhealthily wide, staring forwards. Regina stood, panicked, shouting desperately. ‘Sidney. Sidney. It’s mother. Sidney. Anyone. Help.’

In the bed, Cora lay back suddenly, eyes straight forward, unseeing.

* * *

 

It was raining on the drive back to London. The rain was heavy, unrelenting, bouncing painfully loudly off the roof of the motorcar. Zelena was sure that at any minute it would start seeping through and wake the baby, still thankfully asleep. Although that was probably more thanks to the sliver of whisky in her feed, than it was her parenting skills. Either way she was grateful. Beside her, Mal was talking, endlessly talking; she had stopped listening miles ago. Next to her, Regina was silent, hands clasped tightly, unmoving.

‘I wouldn’t feel too bad about killing your mother really, Regina.’ Mal smiled, placing her hand on Regina’s knee. ‘She was dying anyway; you just sped up the process. In fact, it’s almost charitable.’

‘Be quiet, Mal.’ Zelena hissed. ‘It was nothing to do with Regina, and it certainly isn’t anything to do with you now.’

‘I’m simply trying to help. I don’t see you making a lot of effort.’

‘Leave her alone, that will help.’

‘I can speak for myself.’ Regina spoke for the first time since they had left that morning. Zelena rolled her eyes and turned to her own window. The sisters hadn’t spoken since the incident the previous day. Cora’s second heart attack, as Regina watched, had proved too much for her body, weak from years of alcohol abuse and poor diet anyway. They stayed an additional night, long enough to organise burial and any remaining business, before leaving. Regina had remained silent almost the entire time. ‘I am aware it was not my fault, although that hardly matters. I don’t feel guilty.’

‘I can arrange a wake for her in London. I know that Cru and Ursula would like to pay their respects.’ She squeezed Regina’s knee gently. She glanced down at the hand on her leg, and stared again out of the window.

‘Fine.’

‘And I’m here for you, Regina, should you want me.’ Mal moved her hand a little higher, brushing against the other woman’s thigh with a smile.

Regina removed Mal’s hand with a frown. ‘I don’t.’


	15. Something to Look Forward To

**Chapter 15**

**Something to Look Forward To**

‘This was your church?’ Emma stared up at the stained glass window, turning to take in the entirety of the interior. ‘It’s far smaller than I would have expected.’

‘Now I’m not sure how to take such a comment.’ Regina arched an eyebrow, but nodded regardless. ‘It’s just the village church, but yes we were regular in attendance. Not for any notion of belief, however, the closest we came to God was my father’s insistence on singing the national anthem on New Year. And, according to mother, that began as a joke.’

‘Then why attend?’ Emma was trying her best to imagine Regina actually attending sermons in such a building. The walls were grey stone, the stained glass chipped, the organ clearly not in use. It was the opposite of what she’d have expected as the source of spirituality in the Mills family.

‘We were the largest landowning family in this area- we attended for that reason and that reason alone. Status. Mother was well aware we were expected to attend, with our absence seen as neglect on our part. For my father, it was traditional; his family had been attending regular service for years. I simply never had a choice.’ Regina glanced around her once more before smiling weakly. ‘Come. There are better things to do than standing around here, in a house where we are unwanted.’

She offered her arm to Emma as they left, leaving behind the cold church, for the bright sun of the spring outside. It had been a week since her mother’s death. The funeral had been swiftly arranged, her body moved quickly from house to grave, as if doing so would remove her influence ever more. Neither Regina nor Zelena had been in attendance. The remainder of the servants were sent away, Sidney receiving his orders, so Regina thought, with a pained look often reserved only for puppies before they are drowned. The only staff Regina had kept was her mother’s driver, who now waited outside the church for the women.

‘You wanted to visit your mother’s grave.’ Emma glanced back at the graveyard as her companion climbed into the car. ‘That was the reason you asked me to accompany you.’

‘I lied.’ She shrugged, a smirk on her face at the sight of the blonde’s wide eyes. ‘There are other, far more interesting reasons for you being here. Besides, I spent long enough with the woman whilst she lived, I do not intend to waste any further time on her corpse.’

‘I don’t quite…’

‘I don’t expect you to understand. Just to enjoy.’

* * *

 

The rest of the drive was silent, Emma’s gaze directed firmly at the view from her window. Every cottage, even in wartime with flowers beginning to blossom in the garden, caused her to smile. Every field they passed, with lambs bounding in front of mother sheep, made her chuckle noiselessly to herself.

At one point, she felt herself whisper, ‘It’s so beautiful. Everything is so wonderfully beautiful.’

Regina glanced over, Emma’s own eyes still bewitched by the passing countryside. ‘I forget you’ve always lived in the city.’

‘I think if I lived here, I’d never return to any city.’

The car turned then, to pass through a pair of ornate iron gates, opened in expectation of return. ‘Well this, Miss Swan, is the Mills estate.’

The house was grander than any which Emma had seen before, outside that of her childhood fairy tales. The driveway alone was extensive, with the house only really coming into view as the car passed through a number of hanging trees, which only set to fuel the sense that she’d somehow fallen into a work of fiction during the drive. She almost expected there to be a moat of some sort, and felt foolish disappointment when she realised there was not, but the house on approach caused her heart to rise once more. Built of brick, with more rooms and windows than she’d seen in a building that had not once housed kings. Climbing out of the car, she couldn’t help but feel underdressed, wearing merely slacks, what she imagined had only ever been worn by servants in the house before.

‘I apologise for the state of the building. My mother, whilst enjoying the idea of living on such an estate, had a poor head for managing it, at least physically speaking.’ Regina glanced around, shaking her head as she caught sight of yet more repairs that were needed, alongside those she had discovered on her previous visit. ‘However, you can imagine how it once looked…’

‘It’s marvellous,’ Emma felt herself laugh as she gazed upwards from the drive. She looked over at the other woman. ‘This was your home? And you left?’

‘Yes.’ She felt herself go red momentarily under the weight of her companion’s stare. ‘Albeit for other reasons than the architecture of the family estate.’

‘I couldn’t imagine a reason that would cause me to leave.’ She was still smiling, possibly foolishly, and yet just imagining such a home caused the feeling.

‘Why don’t I show you around the building itself?’

* * *

 

She might as well have been giving a child a tour, from the way Emma reacted to the house. Every chandelier drew a gasp, every mention of servants caused her eyes to widen, the sheer number of bedrooms caused her to giggle. She had planned to show her the stables, but thought the idea would cause the other woman to collapse in shock. She began the tour rolling her eyes at every outward display of amazement from the blonde, yet found herself smiling by the end. She laughed when Emma questioned her about _yet another_ staircase, found herself racking her brain when asked who decorated each room, who the portraits were of in the halls. She tried to save the best room for last.

‘This was my room, until I married.’

Emma had never realised she was so curious, until she entered the room. Never realised how much she wanted to know. The first thing to surprise her was the size. They had passed greater rooms used as guest rooms, now with furniture covered in dusty white sheets. The second was how plain it seemed to be, when every room contained some unnecessary opulence, this was a room that seemed almost simple. The bed was still four-poster, with a covering containing goodness knows how many years’ worth of dust, yet it was still not what she had anticipated.

‘What do you think?’ Regina sat at her dressing table, still containing all of her old brushes, kept as if new.

‘It’s smaller than I would have expected. Plainer.’

‘I wanted the opposite of my mother when I was young. If she wanted the house to be grand, I wanted my part to be as plain as I could manage.’ She raised an eyebrow, before standing up and taking Emma’s hand. ‘You haven’t seen the best of it yet though.’

She pulled Emma to the window, and stood behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist as Emma stared at the scenes outside. From the window, the two women could see only green, stretching in every direction. There was not a building, not a person, nothing that had not grown and would not continue to grow.

‘It’s as if there was no war,’ Emma whispered. ‘As if there had never been such an event, as if there never would be.’

‘If you see that tree, in the distance, the estate goes up to there.’ Regina pointed, before returning her hand to her lover’s waist. ‘After that it is the property of local farmers.’

‘This belonged entirely to your father?’

‘And then to my mother.’ She nodded. ‘And now to me.’

Emma turned sharply. ‘To you? Entirely to you? What about your sister?’

‘She cut mother off far too long ago to be left anything of importance. It all went to me- the money, the estate, it’s mine.’ She took Emma’s hand and held it to her mouth, kissing the palm gently. ‘Or ours. It could be ours.’

‘Ours?’

‘I’d always planned to sell this place. Take the money, go abroad, find somewhere brighter. But, now you’re here…we could stay.’

‘We couldn’t. I couldn’t.’

‘Why not?’ Regina frowned, her mind racing, her tongue struggling to find the words she needed to wipe the disbelief from Emma’s eyes. ‘You fit here, Emma. The way you move, the look on your face at everything you see, that’s how you should be. That’s how everyone should be. That’s how I used to be here. You bring that back in me. We could live here, together, you and me and Henry. After the war. He’d love it here, you know he would. All of this space for him, away from the ghastly dirt of the city.’

‘I used to dream about taking him out of the city.’

‘You can, with me.’ She took Emma’s hands in her own. ‘We could have all of this together.’

Emma took her hand from the other woman’s grasp, and placed it softly on her cheek. ‘Regina…’

‘Why don’t you want this?’ Regina whispered into her palm, her breath warm against Emma’s skin. At the question, Emma turned away, glancing back out of the window.

‘Look at it. Miles and miles of land. This house is bigger than anything I’ve ever dreamed of. For who? You, me and Henry? It’s ridiculous. What would we do here?’

‘Well, we’d start very day like this.’ She took Emma’s hands, and pulled her onto the bed. Regina lay behind her, one arm around her, breathing softly against her neck. Her voice was barely more than a whisper. ‘We could wake every morning like this, with a view of the actual World, rather than some half-dead city. We could wake to birds instead of shouting. If wanted, we could lie like this, undisturbed for hours, no pitiful jobs to rise for.’

‘No job?’ Emma rolled over to arch an eyebrow at Regina. ‘So what, we fill our days with nothing?’

‘You could find a job if you wished. You’ve worked so long with the ambulance service, no doubt you’d find somewhere happy to take you in the village. You could even fill your time with this place, so much work needs completing.’

‘And you? And Henry?’

‘Henry would have school. Or he could be home tutored. I could teach him to ride even, if we filled the stables once more. I would assist in the running of the house, directing the household, I could even help to cook.’ She smirked. ‘I make a wonderful apple turnover.’

‘This is absurd.’ Emma pulled away, sitting up. At Regina’s touch, she shifted away.

‘What are you complaining about?’

‘This. All of this.’ Emma turned her head. ‘One week you don’t wish me to accompany you to meet your dying mother, the next week you want me to abandon my entire life to live with you in some delusional life of happy families. One month, you want me, the next month you’re with Mal once more. How am I to know that you won’t change your mind? That I might leave London with Henry and move here and within half a year you’ll be casting us out? Do you not realise how ridiculous this all is? Even if you keep to your word, we’ll have the same problems here as anywhere. The village won’t accept us. They won’t look to you as they looked to your parents. They’ll expect you to marry, grow confused when you don’t. Maybe even suspicious, or angry. It would never work.’

Regina backed away from Emma, her face caught in a hurt frown. ‘I would never ask you to leave your life in London. Your friends would be welcomed here, if you wanted them. Indeed, I imagine Zelena would be here too for an extended amount of time, something I unfortunately could not help. And you’re right about the village, they would never accept us, but that is not my concern, nor my problem.’ She paused. ‘But you’re right, I can’t argue everything else you said.’

Regina stood, walking around to stand in front of Emma, before kneeling at her feet, one hand reaching to cup her face gently. Emma murmured into her, ‘why are you doing this now?’

‘Because my mother died, a woman I imagined as a child was immortal, and I realise how short life is? Because the woman who controlled my entire life is now gone and I can make my own decisions finally? Because I love you, Emma Swan?’ She smiled, her eyes starting to fill with tears. ‘Because you make my home feel like home again, something I never thought I would feel again? I don’t want to keep living through each day, I want to have something to look forward to, and I want that to be you, Emma.’

‘You haven’t said anything like this before.’

‘I’ve thought it, and felt it, this and so much more. I love you, Emma, more than I have loved any person before, certainly even more than I’ve wished to love a person.’ She moved suddenly, pulling one of her rings from her finger, and shifting until she was on bended knee. ‘I want you to marry me, Miss Swan.’

‘What?’

‘I want you to marry me.’ Her cheeks were wet with own tears, but she smiled still, taking one of Emma’s hands and sliding her own ring onto her finger. ‘I know it could never be real, I know that there isn’t a country in existence or a person alive who would take this seriously, but I would. I want you, only you, with me always. It doesn’t have to be here, if here is too far, it can be London, if you wish, anywhere you choose. But I want to be with you, to be your wife in all but name. I’d give you half the estate, if that’s what you want, but I can’t be without you. You or Henry.’

‘You want to marry me? An engagement would mean nothing.’

‘My promise to you. To  treat you equally. To be loyal, honest. To be yours, undoubtedly.’

Emma smiled, feeling her own tears dampen her cheeks, and shook her head. ‘I don’t want half of your estate, Regina. I’ve only ever wanted you.’ She pulled Regina up to meet her mouth with her own. ‘I don’t care if it means nothing. I’ll marry you, Regina Mills.’

The ring was nothing of importance, possibly even the least costly ring that the socialite had been wearing that day, yet Emma could swear she had never owned anything of more worth.


	16. Impossible

**Chapter 16**

**Impossible**

**_Thank you to everyone who reads and follows this work. I apologise for the delays between chapters. Warning: From this chapter on, the work will deal with period-typical racism specifically anti-Semitic views. These are not reflective of my views as an author._ **

**_Please continue to review. Thank you._ **

Emma had always believed there were only two forms of wealth- having it, and not. However, as she sat for the third time in the home of Lady De Vil, champagne in hand, she realised she’d been wrong. She felt as if seeing Regina’s home, _her_ home soon, she smiled to herself, had awakened her to the differences between the two women. Regina’s home was like her- stately, and private. Her home was grand without having to prove itself. It had been built to be admired, and always would be, regardless of who the viewer was. Lady De Vil’s felt much the opposite- it had to be on show to all as if to prove its existence. Gaudy chandeliers, mirrors hung on all walls, cheap looking but no doubt expensive ornaments on every available surface. That marked the De Vil house. Rather like the woman herself. Even now, Emma realised as she glanced over, the socialite was doing her best to put herself on show- draped over the American woman besides her, red lipstick smiles flashing to those around her, calling constantly for the refilling of the glass in her unsteady hand.

It made Emma slightly sick to watch.

‘We don’t need to stay much longer.’ Regina sat down beside her, close but not touching, as if to mark themselves apart from the other women in the room, who did not seem able to stand apart from each other unless to drink. ‘Once Zelena has reappeared and I’ve said goodbye, we can go.’

‘There’s no rush.’ She looked over and smiled. ‘Besides, this is the only chance either of us will have to drink champagne for a while.’

Regina laughed lightly. ‘How much have you already had?’

The blonde rolled her eyes, but with the smile still on her face. ‘Enough.’

‘However much it is, you’re still a far way off every other person here.’ Regina looked over at the rest of the crowded room, eyes eventually landing on Mal in the corner. Despite the relative earliness of the night, still not past eleven, the blonde was barely standing, leaning instead on a young woman beside her. Her shirt was pulled out of her trousers, the suit jacket misplaced, and her hair was beginning to fall from the neat bun she had tied it up into only hours before. As if sensing Regina’s eyes on her, she turned around to meet them, a momentary frown flashing across her face at the sight of Emma Swan.

Within moments, she had staggered over to the two women, her arm interlinked with her companion. ‘Regina.’

‘Mal.’ Regina nodded, her face still, hiding the revulsion in her stomach at the sight and smell of her friend. Despite the crowds in the room and the distance between them, she could still catch the gin and tobacco that seemed to cling to her friend, overwhelming and nauseating.

‘This is Aurora,’ she slurred, gesturing to the brunette woman on her arm. The other woman made no greeting, simply standing still whilst Mal continued to lean against her. ‘I see you brought Miss Swan with you.’

‘I was invited of my own accord.’ Emma frowned, but Mal ignored her, her gaze directed solely at the woman before her.

‘You’re leaving tonight, aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’ She sounded petulant, like a spoilt child. Emma wondered exactly why her companion was even continuing to stand there.

‘I’m moving to live with Miss Swan. Living here was only ever supposed to be temporary.’

‘Are we not good enough for you?’ Her tone changed entirely, with the ease alcohol grants such changes. She was angry, the feeling flashing in her eyes. ‘Are we not good enough for Miss Regina Mills? After everything we've done, everything I've done, are we just not good enough for you?'

‘Don’t do this, Mal.’ Her tone was soft rather than warning, as if trying to appeal to the part of Mal that still so obviously cared.

She looked as if she was going to explode, before sinking slowly. The frown on her face was replaced by an ugly sneer. ‘You’ll get bored soon enough.’

With that she pulled Aurora away, withdrawing back to the corner of the room. Both Regina and Emma watched them leave. Emma suddenly felt a warm hand on hers and she looked back at Regina.

‘Ignore Mal. She’s never dealt well with loss. Everything she says is only designed to hurt.’

Emma withdrew her hand from beneath Regina’s to glance at the ring sat on her fourth finger. She looked back up with a smile. ‘I know that.’

Her look was gentle. ‘Just, if you ever doubt…’

‘I don’t.’ She shook her head, the movement just enough for the light to catch the small stones in her ears, causing them to sparkle far beyond their small cost. ‘Now, before we leave, Miss Mills, and I force you into a life of boredom and tedium…’ She stood up, holding out her hand to her companion. ‘May I have this dance?’

The room was crowded, but Emma felt only Regina against her as she pulled her close and they swayed slowly to the soft jazz in the background. She knew there were other couples dancing around them, she was sure that people were watching them as they moved, that Mal’s eyes would be following them enviously, but she could think of nothing but Regina’s hand against her waist and her hips pressed against her own. She knew that at some point, she let herself rest her head against Regina’s shoulder, no longer even hearing the music, just happy enough to let the other woman lead whilst she seemingly melted against her.

_Had she felt like this before? This calm? This peace? To be able to think of nothing beyond the feeling of another person against you? She wasn’t sure, but she also didn’t mind. She had it now. And it was hers, all hers._

Regina couldn’t be certain, but she could have sworn she felt Emma smile against her shoulder.

The music eventually had to change and, as the tempo increased, Regina and Emma retreated back to their seats, content to continue simply watching the room. The dancers were moving quicker, heels being kicked off in order to avoid any crushed toes as the women drunkenly swung each other around. Cruella and Ursula seemed to dominate the room, despite how many glasses Cruella had been through already, and Regina couldn’t help but smile as she watched.

‘Regina.’ She glanced over at Emma, who had stood silently. ‘Where do I…?’

‘Upstairs.’ She gestured idly, half-distracted by the dancing, Cruella and Ursula now joined by Mal, her previous companion having been replaced with someone almost just as drunk as she was. Emma nodded and left.

* * *

 

She expected everyone to be downstairs. Asides from Zelena, who she assumed was still trying to settle her daughter, there was no reason for anybody to be upstairs. And yet, as Emma dried her hands, enjoying every moment of the soft warmth of the towel against her skin, she could hear voices in the room next door. Murmured voices. They were loud enough for Emma to tell there were two voices, and yet she somehow could not catch the words. In her mind, Mal's face flashed, the look in her eyes as she stared at Regina. Emma felt her heart pound.

 _Stop being ridiculous._ She could almost hear her subconscious saying. _It’ll be two of Cruella’s friends, no doubt engaged in some torrid affair. Leave them alone._

Shaking her head, she placed the towel back on the heater. She stepped outside the bathroom, the voices louder now there were not two doors dividing them. She needed to return downstairs. That's what she ought to do. She glanced over at the staircase and then found, despite herself, she instead began walking up to the door besides the bathroom, practically placing her ear against the wood to listen.

Closer, she could tell there were definitely two voices. One of them she knew. Zelena. The other was new to her. She spoke with a heavy accent, but the door muffled it, she couldn’t tell where from asides from Europe. Their conversation didn’t sound like English either. Emma had always struggled with languages, confusing her French with her German to the point where schoolmistresses had simply refused to teach her. Her subconscious was screaming at her by this point, but her curiosity egged her on only further. With a gentle hand, she pushed the door open a crack, just enough to allow her to hear the conversation more clearly.

German. They were speaking German.

Neal had spoken fluent German. He claimed it was the best language to be learning. _The only way to avoid another World War_ , he had claimed, _is to treat German people with the exact same respect we treat all. That includes learning their customs_. In her youth, she had hung onto every word he said. It had seemed so simple, coming from his mouth, she wondered how politicians had not thought of it. Neal had tried to teach her, early on in their relationship, but found her very much the same as her schoolmistresses had. Impossible.

Still, she had picked up little bits over the years. It came with being at war, she supposed. The constant radio broadcasts. The printing of every military speech in the newspaper. And as she stood listening by the door, she caught a phrase she understood well enough to make her blood run cold.

‘Heil Hitler.’


	17. The Wicked Witch

**Chapter 17**

**The Wicked Witch**

In her shock, she felt her knees weaken, and Emma found herself stumbling into the room, both women turning to look at her with a mix of confusion and fury. She had been right about Zelena. She was stood tall in a deep emerald gown, the beauty of it offset by the ugly frown across her face. The other woman was Mal’s companion from earlier, Aurora, head cocked as she examined the blonde woman carefully.

‘Regina’s little friend. I suppose I could say my darling sister-in-law,’ Zelena said as Emma looked up to meet her eyes. ‘How lovely to see you again.’

‘How much have you heard?’ Now she was in the room, Emma could easily recognise the German accent from Aurora. Her earlier silence made much greater sense. Whilst her accent was strong, her speech was clipped and clear, as if she had been military trained. Even her posture was as a soldier. Straight and strong.

‘Enough.’ The blonde’s embarrassment at having stumbled in had been replaced by the anger and horror she felt outside. She said coldly, ‘I know what you are.’

Zelena raised an eyebrow in amusement. ‘What I am? Good Lord, Emma, you speak as if I’m some sort of wicked witch. Some fairytale villain.’

‘You’re a Nazi.’

‘I’m a winner.’ On the mantelpiece, there stood two glasses of champagne, alongside a half-empty bottle. Zelena took her glass and had a small sip. The room remained silent whilst she did so. Emma continued to stare at her expectantly. ‘Do I really have to explain this to you? I thought you had some intelligence or, at the very least, common sense.’

‘Humour me.’ In her anger, she felt barely able to speak, her mouth almost unable to move. Her words seemed to come out small, forced, icy.

Aurora shook her head at Zelena, but the auburn haired woman simply shrugged. ‘Do you genuinely believe that Britain will win this war, Emma? That even if we did, God forbid, the leaders of this country are strong enough to rebuild what has been lost? No. This country is weak. Our leaders are weak. Our society is overrun with filth and dirt. Something must be done to change that.’

‘Herr Hitler rebuilt Germany, after your leaders destroyed us and our own leaders stabbed us mercilessly in the back. He can do the same here,’ Aurora said, her face blank, but her voice proud. ‘With a German victory, Britain too can become strong. We do not wish for you to lose your freedom. We just want Britain to become a powerful ally for Germany.’

‘Your leader is a murderer. A tyrant.’

‘The Fuhrer does what is necessary, as should all leaders who wish their countries to be victorious.’

‘You have no minds of your own.’

‘We have our own minds. We just share one thought. That of a greater Germany.’

‘People go missing in Germany, never to be seen again. How can you not realise what is happening to them?’

‘The Fuhrer wants to make Germany strong. He has given us clear roles we need to follow for that to happen. If people cannot obey, they cannot stay to cause trouble.’

‘Traitors get what they deserve,’ Zelena said, taking another sip from her glass. ‘If people choose to act like fools, they can’t be too surprised at the punishment.’

‘How can you say that?’ She couldn’t follow the conversation. She couldn’t place the words leaving the women’s mouths with the women she knew. The Zelena who she watched first hold her child, with the Zelena before her, speaking unashamedly about war and treason. ‘You have a daughter, Zelena. A baby. How could you possibly want her to live with what they want? For her to live in a World governed by a madman?’

‘Geh zum Teufel.’ Aurora went to lunge for Emma, but had her shoulder grabbed by Zelena, who held her back tightly.

‘She’s Regina’s,’ she muttered to the other woman, who composed herself once more.

‘Does Regina know?’ Emma asked, her mouth dry. ‘About you, does Regina know?’

It was at that moment that they heard footsteps outside the room, and the door pushed open further. Regina stood in the archway with a frown, her eyes passing between the three women in confusion. Zelena was still holding her champagne in hand. Aurora was stood still, almost in military stance asides for her narrowed stare in Emma’s direction.

‘Emma, what are you doing…?’

‘Talk of the devil.’ Zelena smirked, gesturing to the blonde before her. ‘Why don’t you explain to Emma everything you know, sis? Why not tell her how you lied to her face, I’m assuming on multiple occasions?’

Emma could feel her face grow pale, her head almost snap around to look at her companion. ‘You knew?’

‘I knew what?’ Regina stepped further into the room, her confusion being replaced with a growing anxiety, caused solely by the smug look over her sister’s face, and the panic on her lover’s. ‘Emma, we can go now, leave Zelena to whatever it is she’s rambling about.’

‘No. I need to know. Did you know?’ Emma moved away from Regina as she tried to reach for her hand, her eyes wide. ‘About your sister, did you know?’

‘Did I know what?’

‘Tell her, sis.’ Zelena was still smirking, unable to stop herself at the sight of the two women before her. Emma’s white face. The look of growing realisation in Regina’s eyes. ‘Tell Emma where I’ve been for the last five years. I believe the last time she asked, you said America?’

‘You lied?’

‘A small lie. To not scare you. Zelena’s spent the last five years in Germany.’

‘So you knew?’ Emma felt her eyes begin to fill with tears, and she blinked furiously. _Furious at herself for looking so weak. Furious at Zelena. Furious at Regina for lying once more…_ ‘You know about her, don’t you? About her beliefs? That your sister is a Nazi?’

The word came out as barely even a breath. ‘Yes.’

‘If it helps at all, ladies, in your conversation,’ Zelena interrupted, eyes glittering in amusement. ‘My sister never approved. She did try very hard at one point to talk me out of it. I mean, she probably could have tried harder, but she was awfully distracted with getting married at this time.’

‘I just don’t…’

Three more sets of footsteps and Mal, Cruella and Ursula entered the room. Emma wiped her eyes, still backing away from Regina. Despite Mal’s intoxication, she seemed to notice the atmosphere and she smirked wickedly.

‘Honestly darlings, what is happening here? I have people downstairs asking where you all are. You especially, Zelena, nobody’s seen you yet…’

‘Emma knows, Cru.’

Cruella stopped to stare at Emma with a frown, before it slowly lifted into a smile. ‘And I assume, Miss Swan, you disapprove?’

‘Of course she does, she’s part of the war effort.’ Ursula shrugged, taking a drag of the lit cigarette in hand. ‘No doubt she buys everything Churchill says. Listens to every radio broadcast. Do you really believe in what this country stands for, Swan?’

‘Leave her alone, Ursula.’ Regina hissed, but succeeded in merely causing the other woman to arch an eyebrow and chuckle.

‘Look at Regina, defending her little wartime hero.’

‘You all knew? All this time?’

‘Knew? You’re asking if we all _knew_?’ Mal suddenly cackled, the noise intensified by the alcohol, but caused by the look of complete betrayal she could read across the driver’s face. ‘We didn’t just _know_ , my dear. We agreed. We joined. We supported.’

Her eyes immediately went to Regina, who was still stood tall, but whose face had fallen, her eyes betraying her defeat. ‘All of you?’

‘All but her,’ Cruella answered, noting both Emma’s gaze and Regina’s silence. ‘She never quite had the stomach for it.’

‘But you knew?’ Emma asked, her voice low, her attention solely directed towards the woman on her right. Regina however continued to stand motionless, unable to move her head, to meet Emma’s eyes, unable to do anything but stare forwards, heart pounding inside her chest. She waited for her response, waited for Regina to say anything, before turning back to the other women. ‘Why? I don’t understand…why?’

‘I explained this to you, Swan. You are not going to win this war.’ Zelena sneered. ‘This country is weak. Made up of faggots, Bolsheviks, filthy Jewish moneylenders on every street corner. There’s no strength here. Germany is strong. Its people are better, purer. There’s no possible comparison.’

‘But you aren’t German.’ Emma snapped. ‘Your daughter isn’t German. You think in this new World the Nazis want to create, they’ll accept you?’

‘You say that as if they already haven’t. Who do you think Eva’s father is?’

She thought of the baby sleeping only rooms away, and then of where she had come from. She fekt sick.

‘And you talk about faggots.’ _The word felt dirty in her mouth_. ‘But that’s almost the entirety of this room. What are you going to do when the Nazis arrive? Spread your legs for some officer like they expect you to? Or do you think you’ll be exempt?’

‘We will be exempt, darling, because we have the one thing that exempts all.’ Cruella smirked, approaching Emma as she spoke. She ran a finger down Emma’s bare arm, causing her to shiver. ‘We have money.’ At Emma’s stare, she laughed. ‘In fact, Regina here should be safe as well. You however might have to prepare yourself for spreading those legs…’

‘Cruella…’ Regina finally spoke, turning to the socialite and pulling her away from Emma. At the sight of Regina’s hand on her arm. Cruella merely laughed harder.

‘Ursula was right; you are trying to defend your little patriot here.’ She sneered. ‘How interesting you weren’t this vocal only weeks ago when we had this discussion. How little you disagreed with then. Why, in fact, I almost remember you agreeing…’

She couldn’t listen anymore. Every word seemed to be spinning in her head, the laughter chiming like bells as she stood. Emma felt herself storm from the room, running down the stairs. She knew she had a coat somewhere in the house, but she couldn’t stop. Even the air seemed poisonous now. As she ran, she noticed the walls. Red and black paper. Red lights surrounded by black shadow on the ceiling. Red. Black. Red. Black. _Nazi. Nazi Nazi_. And Regina’s silence throughout all.

She threw open the front door and kept running, feeling the night air hit her face. It was dark, and quiet, the night cold. She didn’t know where she was going. Just far away. Away from the party. Away from the house. _Away from Regina, dark eyes unable to meet her own_.

‘Emma. Emma. Please.’

She stopped as she heard the voice, and turned to see Regina running behind her. The night was too dark to see her clearly, but her voice sounded muffled as if speaking through tears. ‘Emma, please.’

‘Did you know?’

‘No.’

‘Don’t lie to me, Regina. Not again. I can’t stand here and listen to you lie to me again.’

‘I knew about Zelena. I knew she was in Germany. I knew she had… _sympathies_. I didn’t know about Eva. I didn’t know she had actually joined. I thought seeing Germany, seeing the reality, would show her how wrong she was.’

‘And the others? Did you know about them? Did you know you were living in a house with four bloody Nazis?’

‘They don’t really believe…they’re not Nazis. They’re rich and spoilt and stupid, but they don’t really believe in what they say.’

‘You have a German Nazi member inside your house as we speak. I just stood in a room whilst your _friends_ talked about faggots and filthy Jews. How can you possibly believe they’re innocent?’ It had started raining, the cold water splashing against Emma’s skin, smudging the small amount of make-up she was wearing. She barely noticed. ‘You said nothing, Regina. You didn’t interrupt. You couldn’t even meet my eyes. Is that how you talk too? When I’m not around, do you speak too about how awfully grand it would be to get rid of all the faggots from Parliament? The filthy Jews from shops? Do you believe all of that too?’

‘No. I could never…no.’

‘And you expect me to believe that?’ Emma laughed, a hollow noise that seemed to rise from her chest. It sounded cruel even to her own ears. ‘I cannot listen to you lie anymore, Regina. I refuse to.’

She turned to walk away, before feeling a hand around her arm. She looked back to see Regina in front of her, close enough now to see eyes, red rimmed, desperate.

‘What do I need to do, Emma? What do you want me to do?’

‘I don’t know. Your sister is a Nazi. Your friends are all Nazis. Tell the police. Your late husband was a politician, tell one of his associates. Have them arrested, like they ought to be.’

‘That’s my sister.’

‘That doesn’t change what she is.’ Emma looked straight at Regina, meeting her dark eyes with a cold stare. ‘You have a choice tonight. You can choose me, or you can choose her. You need to decide who you want to be.’

With that, she pulled her arm away and walked into the night, leaving Regina alone on the unlit street, rain soaking her skin, tears soaking her cheeks.


	18. The End

**Chapter 18**

**The End**

The dawn was breaking across London. A piercing red slicing through the dark night. For many, it was reassurance- one more night without the air raid siren. One more night alive. But Emma didn’t see the dawn. She saw only the red of the swastika in the sky. The red of the blood that spread over cobbles as one more person was lost to unknown German bombers overhead. The blood she scrubbed out of her uniform. Off of her hands. She turned away from the window with a shiver.

Two knocks on the door caused her to look up. But she didn’t stand. Her legs seemed to be shaking just sat.

‘Emma. Emma, please.’

Regina was stood on the doorstep of her flat. She was dressed still in her dress from the night before, but it was as if it no longer seemed to fit her. It wasn’t merely the smudged make-up, the dark heavy under her eyes, her lipstick smeared. Her hair, so perfect the night before, now simply hung around her face, as tired as she looked. As the two women stood silently facing each other, Emma realised what was missing, what Regina had seemingly lost in the night. _Pride_.

Regina broke the silence. ‘I made my choice. Between you and Zelena, I made my choice.’

‘You make it sound like a tough decision.’ Emma turned her back and walked back into her flat. Behind her, Regina followed, but delicately, as if to make noise would cause the other woman to send her out.

‘She’s my sister.’

‘She’s a Nazi.’

‘That doesn’t stop her being my sister.’

Emma turned around to meet Regina’s eyes once more, anger flashing through them. ‘Well, I’m pleased to know you made you decision between your lying, fascist, disgusting sister and me, whatever you’d call me. Pleased to know it only took you all night to make such a tough call.’

‘I was always going to choose you.’

‘Took you long enough.’ She wanted to be angry. She could feel it. Every nerve in her body seemed to be screaming at her to take hold of something, anything, and throw it. To pull at the other woman, rip at her hair, screech into her face. Make her feel something, anything, like the pain she was feeling. But all she could see was the dull light in Regina’s eyes, as if something behind them had been extinguished, and she felt her own fury die. She sighed. ‘Do you want tea?’

* * *

 

Emma pushed the mug in front of her and watched Regina take a small sip, if only for the warmth. After a moment or so, Emma asked, ‘what did you do?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘It’s morning, just about. I left the party last night. What have you done between then and now?’ They both knew what she wanted to ask, _why didn’t you come with me?_ , but they both ignored the question.

‘I went back to the house. I couldn’t believe…didn’t want to believe…I needed to ask them.’

‘You already knew about your sister. What else could you possibly have needed to ask?’

Regina glanced up through dark eyelashes at the other woman, face still hard, stare still cold. ‘Knowing Zelena was in Germany is proof of nothing.’

‘How can you possibly say that?’

‘You don’t know my sister…’

‘I delivered her child.’

‘Then you don’t understand my sister.’ Regina placed the mug back on the table and reached her hand across to take Emma’s. She felt the other woman become still, but her hand remained in hers. ‘Zelena has never taken well to being who she is. She never accepted her birth status- or lack of it. She blamed everyone around her. My father, for not being hers. She blamed me, for being more accepted than she ever was, and she blamed our mother most especially. She has done everything in her power to upset our mother. Everything mother said she despised, Zelena took a vested interest in. She claimed to be a Communist at one point, after our mother criticised them once. Then she moved out when I was about 18 and she did move to America. She expected she’d be special there, meet some mob boss no doubt who’d take a shine, but girls like Zelena were so common that she didn’t enjoy the country. And of course there was all that rotten business with Wall Street. Before long my sister had met a man who wanted to move to Europe, to Germany, and he took her with him. This was just as the Nazis took power. Long before this awful war was even suggested. Zelena said they did great things in Germany. She said they put people back to work and fixed up the cities and people were happier. I even visited her, for the Berlin Olympics, and it was really quite marvellous.’

‘Marvellous?’ Emma asked coldly.

‘Not the Nazis. Just Germany. I didn’t have a reason to suspect anything. Zelena showed me and Mal around Berlin. She sounded like she had nothing to do with anyone in politics. Then I didn’t hear from her until she returned. I assumed everything had gone wrong for her- that she’d become involved in something dangerous, that the man she had moved with was possibly someone the Nazis didn’t want around. I assumed that was why she came home. I didn’t ask. I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable. I never thought that she’d be involved in anything like…that.’

‘Why did you lie then?’ Emma interrupted. ‘If you genuinely believed your sister was innocent, why did you lie to me about where she’d been?’

‘Why did I lie to the war effort volunteer about my sister living in the country we are currently at war with?’ Regina asked, voice laced with sarcasm. ‘I wonder?’

‘You don’t need to be like that with me.’

‘Then don’t ask questions you know the answer to.’ She frowned; withdrawing her hand from Emma’s to place back in her lap.

The two women sat in silence once more, the only sound being the mugs being lifted, sipped from, and returned to the table. Emma eventually gave in and spoke. ‘So why did you return to the house? What did you need to know?’

‘I don’t know. Everything. Why. How. When.’

‘And what did you find out?’

‘I don’t know.’ Regina glanced up with a small smile, as if doing so would prevent the tears from forming in her eyes. ‘They didn’t seem to have any answers. Zelena couldn’t name the father of her child. She said he was important, but refused to say anything more. Mal was too far gone to be in any way coherent. She laughed a lot. Cruella and Ursula just did not care. I don’t think they ever have, not really. They look at it all as some ridiculous game, I think. But they have enough money to do so. Nothing they do will ever affect them…

‘How did you not know?’ She asked it quietly, but it was enough to stop Regina immediately, and look at her with pained confusion. ‘How did you not know about them? Any of them? How could you not know?’

The questions seemed to hang in the air between the women, sitting heavily. Eventually, Regina spoke. ‘Are you asking why didn’t I know, Emma? Or are you asking if I actually did?’

A pause. ‘Did you know?’

‘Will you ever believe me if I say no?’

‘If it’s the truth.’

‘I didn’t know, Emma. They did share opinions that bordered those of the Nazis, but never seriously, or so I thought. I didn’t take them seriously. I should have done, but I didn’t. Can you believe that?’

Another pause. Longer. The hearts of both women pounding almost in unity. ‘Yes.’

‘What do I do now?’

It was Emma this time who reached across the table to take Regina’s hand, holding it, her thumb rubbing slow circles on the back. ‘You need to go to the police. They’re spies, Regina. Traitors.’

‘They’ll arrest me too.’

Emma let go of Regina’s hand to instead cup her cheek. She felt Regina tilt her head to kiss her palm lightly. ‘I’ll be with you. Whatever they do, I’ll be with you.’

* * *

 

Regina Fabell, nee Mills, was arrested by the London Metropolitan police force for the crimes of treason and espionage that very day. She was released, after intensive questioning, a day later. Following her series of interviews, the De Vil house was searched only to find the entire building empty- all clothes, jewellery and money removed, with no trace of any former occupants. The only exception was the small cry from an upstairs bedroom, whereupon the police officers found a small baby left in a cradle. There was no accompanying birth certificate.

* * *

 

Emma Swan was released from the ambulance service the following week when Snow made it known to Granny about Emma’s relationship with the notorious Ms Fabell. With a disapproving shake of the head, Granny had demanded Emma’s uniform and keys, despite Red’s protests about the already short-staffed station. Red had pulled her close before she left, thrusting her address into her pocket and forcing her to promise to stay in touch. Snow and Belle had kept their distance.

* * *

 

Henry was called back to London from the countryside, only to find his mother, and Regina Mills the only two people waiting for him at the station. But then, he’d been the only young boy on the train.

‘Henry.’ He ran into his mother’s arms, forgetting entirely that he’d promised himself he’d show how mature evacuation had made him. ‘Henry, I missed you.’

‘I missed you mother. I wrote every day, did you get all my letters? I got all of yours. Did you read them all? Have you kept them?’

‘I kept every one, Hen.’ She held him even closer with every second, the tears slipping down her cheeks at the feeling of his heart against her own. Eventually, she let him drop his arms and step back, looking between her and Regina. ‘You remember Ms Mills, don’t you, Henry?’

‘I do remember you.’ He held out his hand to shake hers. She returned the gesture with a smile. He looked back to Emma. ‘I don’t understand why you have that though, mother.’

He pointed at the black pram standing beside Regina. With a glance over at Emma, Regina bent down to pick the baby from within. Emma smiled briefly. ‘Henry, this is Regina’s niece, Eva. She lives with Regina now instead of her own mother.’ As Henry continued to stare at her, Emma felt herself begin to falter. ‘Well, Henry, you know we’ve always lived in our little flat? And we’ve always lived in London? I thought it would be…we thought it would be…’

‘Who’s we?’

‘Do you remember, Henry, what you said to me before you left?’ Regina passed Eva to Emma and knelt down. She whispered, ‘do you remember? About taking care of your mother?’

‘Yes, I remember.’

‘Well, I made a decision while you were away. London’s dangerous, far too dangerous to keep anyone safe. But with your permission, Henry, as the man of the house…’ She watched him smile at that and she resisted a chuckle. ‘With your permission, I want to invite you and your mother to live with me and Eva. We have a huge house, far too big for just us. There’s lots of land to explore, and a stable we can fill with horses. I can even teach you how to ride, just like a real soldier from the past.’

‘You can teach me to ride?’

‘Yes.’

‘And we’d live with you and the baby?’

‘Eva. You could look after her too, make sure she has someone to protect her.’

‘Like a little sister?’ He was practically beaming at the thought. ‘I’ve always wanted a sister…and you’d be like my mother. Another mother.’

Regina stood up straight, catching Emma’s eye with a small smile. ‘Just like that, Henry, just like that.’

* * *

 

_In 1946, one year after the end of World War 2, Zelena Mills was arrested in Germany and found guilty of war crimes. She survived execution only to be sentenced to life imprisonment. Lady De Vil and Ursula were arrested in 1953 during the McCarthy Red Scare in America and both found guilty of espionage on behalf of the Soviet Union. They were both executed. Mal was never found, nor did she ever attempt to make contact with Regina Mills again._

_In 2012, in the same month as the official legalisation of same-sex marriage, the 99 year old Miss Emma Swan and the 100 year old Ms Regina Mills were officially married, 70 years after their engagement. They both passed away in their sleep, lying side by side, a mere month later._


End file.
